Nectarine-Brown Butter Tart

Need a summer fruit dessert?
I'm trying to write things down in a more or less solid place because I keep misplacing my notes...
I first made a version of brown butter nectarine last year (though maybe it was peach at the time), and I can't remember where I found the "jumping off point" recipe- so I can't give credit where credit may be due- but, there were changes made a few times if that makes anyone feel better about the situation.
However, it's also very much like the peach pie we used to have in the summer when I was growing up... which I'm realizing I haven't had in years... so there's that, too.
(For now it is what it is, but I hope to try the pastry out with an oat/rice/cornstarch blend in the near future.)

You can use any stone fruit on this one, wonderful this time of year- as you choose or whatever is available to you. Make sure it's something ripe, though not overly so: nectarines, peaches, plums, apricots--- even cherries.
No matter what, you want to use a type of fruit that is intense and slightly sweet and/or tart with a luscious heavier flesh, a body to it. No flimsy fruit.
And I'd advise to always pick up a bit of extra fruit, a bit more than what is called for- just in case, you never know.
I don’t say this to brag, but the fruit here in California is fantastic... no matter what it happens to be... not that you actually have to DO anything to it, but I'm very grateful I can use it so easily.

Making this tart is not a difficult project, but you'll need to allot some time- though in my opinion it’s well worth it. The longest stint for this recipe would be chilling the brown butter filling before moving on to tart assemblage... at which point it's a very thick but still somewhat spreadable creme (referring to texture here, not content).

Look at the flecks of browned butter and vanilla in there:

You must give yourself time for this one (i.e. start it in the morning if you want to serve it in the evening, OR start it a day ahead and don't spend precious time waiting). Otherwise, if you choose not to wait, things can get a bit messy.

After baking, the filling of the tart will be puffed, browned, and slightly wobbly. But you leave it to cool and then chill. The filling settles and sets to a consistency somewhere between custardy and fudgy so it can be sliced with nice sharp edges.  

It may not be the most drop-dead gorgeous dessert you've ever seen- vibrant color suffers with the heat of baking- and it's a tad rustic... but it tastes pretty nice!
Not too sweet, but caramel-y and sweet-tart fruity with a shortbread-like crust.
It's even great for breakfast (if you do that sort of thing) with some damn fine coffee. Black.

 

You will need an 8 inch tart pan with removable bottom for this...

Nectarine - Brown Butter Tart
Serves 6-8

1/2 c (1 stick, 113 g) unsalted butter
1/2 vanilla bean (OR 1/2 t vanilla bean paste or a teaspoon of vanilla extract)
2/3 c (134 g) sugar
1 1/2 T (13 g) flour
1 extra large egg
a pinch of salt

5 T unsalted butter (71 g), at cool room temperature
3 T (24 g) powdered (confectioner's) sugar
1c plus 2 T (108 g) flour
1/4 t (scant 2 g) salt
1 egg yolk

2-3 ripe nectarines (or peaches, maybe 3-4 plums, 4-6 apricots, a bunch of cherries...)


To make the brown butter filling, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat along with the scraped seeds from the vanilla pod or vanilla paste (throw the empty pod into the butter, for extra flavor). Continue heating until the milk solids begin to brown and become nutty. It'll take maybe 10 mintues- be careful because it may sputter a bit, and it can burn close to the end- so watch it!
While the butter browns, whisk the sugar and flour together in a bowl, then add the egg and whisk to combine (as well as the vanilla extract if you're using it).
When the butter is finished, remove the pan from the heat, fish out the vanilla pod or strain as you pour the warm browned butter and any toasty solids into the bowl with the sugar mixture. Mix well and leave to cool about 20 minutes before covering and chilling in the fridge at least 6 hours.

To make the pastry, blend the butter with the sugar, flour, and salt in a medium-sized bowl until you have a crumbly mass (you can use your hands for this). Add the egg yolk and work it in until you have a uniform dough- though you don't want to over work it (gently, just until it comes together). If it's not coming together very easily- err on the side of caution and undermix in this case- you can add just a sprinkle of water to help get the job done.
Bring the dough together, smash it into a thick disc, wrap in plastic or waxed paper and refrigerate at least an hour to rest.

Preheat the oven to 375 F (190 C). Lightly grease an 8" round tart pan with a removable bottom with butter or baking spray. Roll out the chilled dough between two sheets of plastic wrap or parchment paper so it will fit the pan (it'll be somewhere in the range of a few mm to 1/2 cm thick). Fit the pastry into the pan, pressing into the fluted sides, and cut off the excess with a knife. Freeze about 10 minutes (or if you're still waiting for the browned butter mixture to chill, you could place the prepared tart pan in the fridge for longer).
Prepare the fruit just before assembling. Halve and pit the fruit, and slice into thin pieces (a nectarine or peach- maybe into 12ths, an apricot- maybe 6ths... if using cherries, just pit and halve).
When ready to bake, remove the tart pan from the fridge and pour in the chilled brown butter filling. Smooth it as best you can, hitting the edges- though it doesn't have to be perfect as it will level itself out while baking. Arrange the fruit on top of the tart (I think concentric circles work pretty well) pressing the slices in gently.
Place the prepared tart on a sheet pan to accommodate any overflow and bake about 45 minutes

The tart is done when the edges of the pastry are a light golden brown and the filling is browned everywhere surrounding the fruit. The filling will be a bit wobbly. 
Place the tart on a rack and let cool to warm before placing it in the fridge to chill all the way through and set completely (this will take a couple hours).

Slice and serve the tart at a cool room temperature.

Ginger-Soy Rice Noodle Salad

I saw a rice noodle salad somewhere several days ago I thought looked pretty good, so I thought I'd try to put one together (mostly, I wanted one for lunch, and this is the outcome that worked fairly well).

As far as a meal like this goes, whether it's room temperature or cold, this type of dish can be nice light meal for a warm summer afternoon or evening- that's where I was going with it.
Or you could add shrimp, chicken, or beef to make it a little more robust.

For this recipe, things are left pretty open- it's mostly lists.
Amounts are to taste as the additions to each individual dish, though I'd say maybe 4-5 oz of noodles for 2-3 people, but anything extra is an easy meal the next day.
Vegetables can be raw, blanched, or given a quick saute.

 

(But whatever you do, as is quite often the case, the best part of the salad is the end since all the goodies that aren't tangled up with everything else fall to the bottom of the bowl to be captured at long last.) 
Quite honestly, after photographing I added a bigger mess of herbs, more vegetables, and I stirred in a bit more sauce before devouring.

A word of warning: the amount of dressing will certainly cover more than two salads- more like four or more. But that's ok.
If you're at all wary about any of the ingredients and the amounts, perhaps add what you like, let it sit to blend, then taste. The dressing by itself could potentially be whack-you-in-the-face strong to some, but when tossed with the bland noodles, it's great... I think I could eat it on lots of things so I'm perfectly fine with the leftovers (stored in a jar in the fridge). Again, go easy on certain ingredients and/or the amount you use when dressing the noodles it if you're at all concerned.
(And don't spill any fish sauce on yourself. A wonderful flavor in smaller doses, great as part of a whole, it's pretty rank by itself and if you spill you'll probably have to change your clothes.)

 

Ginger-Soy Rice Noodle Salad
(Dressing serves at least 4)
Rice noodles (whatever style you choose)

Ginger- Soy Dressing:
1 1/2 T freshly grated ginger
1/4 c (60 ml) tamari or soy sauce
2 t (10 ml) fish sauce
1 1/2 t (8 ml) sriracha (optional if you like a little heat)
1 T plus 1 t (16 g) sugar
2 garlic cloves, minced
Zest of 1/2 lime, plus 1 T (15 ml) juice 

Vegetable options:
cubed avocado
thinly sliced red pepper
sliced sugar snap peas
cucumber batons
grated or julienned carrots

Fresh herbs:
green onion
basil
cilantro
mint

To serve:
chopped peanuts
caramelized shallots
lime wedges
sriracha

Extras:
cooked shrimp, chicken, or beef



*As there are different types of rice noodles, make sure to cook them according to package instructions. Drain, shock under cool running water, drain well again, and set aside.

Stir together the dressing ingredients in a bowl and let sit at least 10 minutes while you prepare the rest of your salad ingredients. 

When ready to put salads together dressing noodles, add enough dressing to moisten and loosen the noodles, and toss well to distribute. 

Place noodles in bowl (or bowls) and add vegetables and herbs as desired.
Top with peanuts and shallots, and add extra dressing, lime, or sriracha if you wish.

Blood Orange Marmalade and Four Citrus Marmalade

 

This weekend I wanted to make use of blood oranges before they disappeared, so I made a bit of marmalade. Some will be given away, but the rest will be stashed.

One thing about jams and marmalades: you'll never be able to make the same batch twice. That's nature, that's variation...  some fruits may be sweeter, or juicier, some more tart, some more pithy and bitter. Things will never be exactly the same. In some ways that's too bad, but in other ways it keeps things interesting.

Marmalade is great for eating on toast, with yogurt, or even to serve with a pork roast or maybe turkey (save to doctor cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving?)- in my opinion marmalade is a nice thing to have around.

There are two recipes here, one is basically blood orange (with a bit of lemon), and the other includes four types of citrus.  I did some experimentation with amounts and techniques, and I didn't want to lose what I'd done- notes were taken, recipes were written, and now they're posted.

In the photo with two jars of marmalade, you can see a difference in color. The blood orange is obviously the more red one, and the four citrus is more orange.

When I made the blood orange marmalade, I did not end up soaking the peels. It would have made the marmalade less bitter, so it's a good tip for marmalade if you prefer less of that bitterness. 
So: after slicing, soak the orange peels for a few hours if you prefer (see the Four Citrus Marmalade recipe below for the how-to on that).

In slicing, you can make the pieces of fruit as thick or thin as you like. Use a mandoline if you would like your oranges very thinly sliced, or perhaps a food processor for the sake of speed.  I think mine were between 1 and 3 mm, obviously not exact... but they're hand cut, so we'll call it "rustic" in this instance.

And I'm sorry, but I didn't actually take into account the yield of marmalade in each batch. It'll vary a bit depending on how long it's cooked and allowed to reduce...
However, I'm going to guess two quarts with the blood orange, but it's less with the four citrus.



Blood Orange Marmalade
makes about 2 quarts

3 1/2 lb. (1580 g) blood oranges
2 c (480 ml) water
2/3 c (120 ml) fresh Eureka lemon juice 
3 c (675 g) sugar


Place a small plate in the freezer.
Start a large pot of water to boil and place jars and lids in it to sterilize. 

Wash the oranges well and cut off the ends to expose the inside. Cut the oranges into quarters and slices the ends of each quarter to remove a bit of extra pith. Thinly slice the oranges, removing any large seeds. Add the pieces of orange as well as any orange juice to a large pot. 
Add the water, lemon juice, and sugar to the pot and stir the mixture to combine. Bring the oranges to a boil over medium heat, then reduce to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the peels are cooked, the juice in the  marmalade is reduced and it passes a gel test.  To test, pull the plate out of the freezer and and place a bit of the cooked marmalade on it. Place the plate back into the freezer for a few minutes to cool it quickly, then check the consistency by pushing it with a finger to see if it wrinkles or is generally thick enough for you.  
This takes about an hour and a half (90 minutes).

Drain the hot jars one by one and ladle hot marmalade into them to about a centimeter or 1/2 inch from the top. Wipe the rims and threads with a clean, damp towel, and screw the hot lids on. 
At this point I may place the finished jars back into the boiling water for a few minutes to help sterilize further as well as clean the jars of sticky marmalade on the outside. 

Leave the jars on a counter to cool to warm, then refrigerate (I don't fully/officially can them, so the fridge in lieu of the pantry is a safety step). 
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Four Citrus Marmalade

2 lb.  (about 900 g) Cara cara navel oranges
1 lb. (about 450 g) blood oranges 
2 Eureka lemons, juiced
1 Meyer lemon
1 1/2 c (360 ml) cold water
2 2/3 c (400 g) sugar


Place a small plate in the freezer.
Start a large pot of water to boil and place jars and lids in it to sterilize.
Wash the citrus well. Juice the navel oranges and slice the peels. Juice the blood oranges and slice 3 of the peels. 
Reserve the juices and place the sliced peels into a large pot of cold water. Let soak 3 hours, then remove the soaked peels to a large pot. Add the reserved orange juices, as well as the lemon juice and the sliced Meyer lemon, the water, and sugar.

Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, then reduce to a simmer over low. Stir occasionally, until the peels are cooked, the juice in the marmalade is reduced and it passes a gel test. To test, pull the plate out of the freezer and and place a bit of the cooked marmalade on it. Place the plate back into the freezer for a few minutes to cool it quickly, then check the consistency by pushing it with a finger to see if it wrinkles or is generally thick enough for you.   
This will take at least an hour, perhaps an hour and a half (90 minutes).

Drain the hot jars one by one and ladle hot marmalade into them to about a centimeter or 1/2 inch from the top. Wipe the rims and threads with a clean, damp towel, and screw the hot lids on. 
At this point I may place the finished jars back into the boiling water for a few minutes to help sterilize further as well as clean the jars of sticky marmalade on the outside. 

Leave the jars on a counter to cool to warm, then refrigerate (I don't fully/officially can them, so the fridge in lieu of the pantry is a safety step). 
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Meyer Lemon Marmalade

The first I knew of Meyer lemons was more than 20 years ago. My older sister, who was in college in California, would periodically send boxes of them to the rest of the family in Missouri. I don't remember what we did with them, but I do remember thinking them very different than basic lemons. Perhaps even exotic.
(Now she's in Virginia, where they admittedly don't have much in the way of citrus groves, and I'm in California.)

Meyer lemons are more subtle though distinct in flavor, with a more perfume-y quality (maybe a tad grassy) than the zingy Eureka variety we normally associate with lemony-ness.  The Meyer variety, a mandarin orange and lemon hybrid, is pretty common in California.  In addition to being less acidic, Meyer lemons are generally juicier, their skin is thinner, and the segments and juice are a deeper yellow.

I was staying at a very kind and helpful friend's a for few days while she was out of town. She has a Meyer lemon tree in the back that was practically dripping with lemons, as well as a full drawer of them in the fridge, and I was encouraged me to "make some yummy things."
So along with the requisite curd, a dinner main, and some baby cakes (those last two which I HOPE to photograph and post soon), I made a batch of marmalade.
There was some quiet Saturday time in front of me, it was drizzly, and I wasn't going to go on a long exploratory walk. 

But before I got started, I also did a bit of foraging in the yard for the herbs- so interestingly, much of what was used came from right there.

It's sweet, sour, and bitter... sunny, with a tinge of a resinous herbal flavor.
The herbs, of course, are not a requirement, though I would encourage the bundle of seeds because there's pectin in seeds, which obviously will help thicken (though technically lemons in general are high in pectin and would help thicken ANY batch of jam). It can get to the thickness of something more like membrillo.

One little tip: to facilitate *actual* thin slices of lemon, you may want to use a mandoline. 
Next time I make this, I may try adding more mandarin juice- 2/3 to 1 cup maybe.

With butter on toast for breakfast, or maybe something more dense like a bagel along with cream cheese, thinly spread onto a crêpe with a dollop of whipped cream- ditto with poundcake, or as part of a cheese board (to go along with a chèvre or a triple crème brie). Versatility.


Meyer Lemon Marmalade
(makes about 4 cups)

1 3/4 lb. (about 810 g) Meyer Lemons
juice of 2 mandarin oranges (about 1/3 c or 60 ml)
2 c (453 g) sugar
1 c (250 ml) water
1 sprig of lavender
1 sprig of rosemary

Place a small plate in the freezer.
Cut both ends from the the lemons, quarter them lengthwise, and slice thinly. When you get very close to the ends where slicing becomes difficult, if a bit pithy you can slice out the bit of inside and discard the skin and pith if you choose. Remove seeds from the lemons and set aside. Combine the sliced lemons (and any juice you get from cutting), mandarin juice, and water in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, and skimming any foam that rises to the top. Combine the lavender, rosemary, and about 1 T of the lemon seeds (visually about 1/2 of a ping-pong ball) in a few layers of cheesecloth and tie tightly. Set aside.
After the first 30 minutes of cooking the marmalade mixture, add the prepared cheesecloth bundle. Continue simmering, and occasionally stirring gently about 20-30 minutes more.
Test the thickness of the jam to see how it sets by placing a spoonful of the hot liquid marmalade onto the frozen plate. Let it cool a couple minutes, and then run a finger through it to see if the "divided" jam stays separated. If it flows back to cover the space you just cleared, it should cook longer (unless you prefer it a bit runny). If the jam looks like a good set consistency, spoon into hot, sterilized jars and cover with hot lids.
Let the jars cool a bit, then refrigerate.

Roasted Beet and Carrot Soup

I'd been meaning to get this post up for quite a while, more than a year, so finally... here it is.
During my (generally) bi-monthly Saturday walk to the farmers' market yesterday, I had hoped to find what I needed. I was in luck.

I'm grateful to have such a great place close enough to walk (or have a mini-trek). In addition to finding an organic booth of vegetables with all roots $2 per pound (yippee), I found some wonderful pears, blood oranges, and huge passion fruit (which I will be eating in my yogurt for breakfast).
I grabbed bleu cheese for the pears and crème fraîche for the soup from Cowgirl Creamery (!!!), and I was completely set.

The recipe is based on other beet soups, though this is rigged to my own preferences.
I think the ginger and lime are what really make it- bite and zing - and I think both need to be present.
Additionally, a bit of crème fraîche stirred into a bowl adds a nice creamy smoothness and a touch of nutty tang.
With all the roots, it's great for winter or spring- even though it's  a cold soup (it then follows that it also works as a summer starter).
Well... I serve it cold. But warm is an option.
Plus, it's an absolutely fantastic shade of magenta.
And other than the obvious visual, if you're not a beet person there's a good chance you might not even know there are beets by taste alone.

Of course, you can halve the recipe, but if you're serving fewer people I'd recommend making all of it and putting half aside in the freezer for someday down the line (it's like money in the bank).

(P.S. It's a vegetarian soup, but it becomes vegan without the crème fraîche.)


Roasted Beet and Carrot Soup
serves 8-10 as a starter

2 lbs. (a scant kilo) red beets
3/4 lb. (about 340 g) carrots
salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup (60 ml) olive oil
10 cups (2.36 L) vegetable broth
8 sprigs of parsley
3-4 inches of ginger, divided into one 2 inch and one 1-2 inch portion
1 large yellow onion, diced
6 large cloves of garlic, minced

To serve:
lime wedges
crème fraîche or sour cream


Preheat the oven to 425 F (218 C).
Peel the beets and carrots and slice them into 1-2 inch pieces. Toss with about half the olive oil on a rimmed sheet pan and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Roast the vegetables until they're soft and browned a bit, flipping/stirring once or twice, about 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, pour the vegetable broth into a large pot. Peel the larger piece of ginger root with a spoon and slice it thinly. Place the sliced ginger in the broth along with the parsley.  Bring up to a boil, then reduce to a low simmer for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat, cover, and let the vegetable broth infuse.

While the vegetables are roasting and the stock is simmering, warm the rest of the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the onion and sprinkle with a bit of salt.  Saute until softened and translucent, with a bit of caramelization. Add the garlic and warm through about minute, until you can smell it. Set the pan aside to wait for the vegetables in the oven to finish.

Finely grate the second piece of ginger and set aside.

When the vegetables are done, strain the parsley and ginger slices from the broth. Add the onion and garlic, as well as the roasted beets and carrots and the freshly grated ginger (if you're concerned about the amount, perhaps start with less and see what you prefer). Bring to a gentle simmer, and cook everything together about 10 minutes. 

Puree the soup in batches in a blender until smooth. After the soup is completely pureed, adjust the seasonings, adding salt and pepper to taste (or more ginger while it's still hot if you so desire).

Serve warm with crème fraîche and lime wedges, or chill several hours and serve cold (with the same accompaniments). 

Braised Chicken Thighs with Olives, Capers, and Lemon

This was something I threw together over winter last year, but have made many times since then.
It seems nice in those colder months- maybe fall to early spring. Not too heavy, but lots of flavor and a bit of color (just add parsley if you want a pop of green).
However, it’s completely non-seasonal. All the items (to me, anyway) are pantry items, so this is easily put together... perhaps after a run to the store for the chicken.

But it can be a little something more based on what you use, of course. This last round I had some Herbes de Provence olives I'd found at the olive bar at the store, which were a plus.
Just make sure you get a bit of the brine if you pick up olives and capers at the bar in lieu of using a jar.

It's important to make sure you don't use a pan that's too small so that everything is jammed in together- and the chicken ends up being practically covered in the wine. The point is partially to have some space to allow for evaporation so everything is able to reduce...
And reduction is a very good reason to make sure the wine is "nice enough" as far as beverages go. It doesn't have to be dear, just drinkable ("awful" sadly will not improve with concentration).

Also, having made it enough, I can safely say that you do want to make sure the chicken is seasoned. Don't make the mistake of thinking the olives and capers will be salty enough to take care of everything else.

As a suggestion, I think it's nice with a kale salad with a lemon vinaigrette (garlic in the vinaigrette, a shower of Parmesan on top), and served the chicken with roasted cauliflower and quinoa (great for soaking up the juices).
Extra kale, cauli, quinoa, chicken, capers/olives/shallots, jammy lemon and sauce? Leftovers make a great bowl for lunch the next day. Ta-da.

Braised Chicken Thighs with Olives, Capers, and Lemon
serves 6 (... or 3)

6 chicken thighs (skin on and bone in)
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
3/4 c (180 ml) white wine
1 c (180 g) pitted green olives
1 1/2 T (22 ml) olive brine
3 large shallots, sliced
1 1/2 lemons, cut into sixths
3 T (45 g) capers in brine
1 1/2 T (22 ml) caper brine
3 T (45 ml) olive oil


Preheat oven to 375 F (190 C).
Trim extra fat and skin from the chicken thighs, then salt and pepper both sides of the chicken as you would normally.
Pour the white wine into a 9x13 inch pan along with the olive and caper brines. Add the chicken, skin side up. Sprinkle the olives, capers, and shallots around and between the chicken pieces. Tuck the lemon slices in among chicken, then drizzle everything with the olive oil. 
Cover the pan with aluminum foil.

Place the pan in the oven and braise the chicken 45 minutes.
Remove the foil and increase the oven temp to 425 F (218 C) for 10 minutes.
Broil 5 minutes or so if the top of the chicken needs a bit of rendering and color. 

Remove the pan from the oven and let stand 5-10 minutes before serving with the braising sauce.

Pear and Bleu Cheese Salad

I had to run to the farmer's market this weekend because it's now officially autumn and I knew someone there would have pears... but of course, it was more than just one farm stand.
(Though, honestly, whether it's pears or not I find I have to do this just to see what's going on.)
In addition to pears, I found some striking Emerald Beaut Plums (very pale green with tinges of red- orange), late peaches, and Asian pears (a treat if you find them, they're round and more crisp in texture- like an apple, as opposed to the soft and juicy pears you may be more accustomed to... but they'd work nicely in a salad.)

Maybe what I have here is ubiquitous, especially as an autumn salad.
But it's good.

Some people loathe bleu cheese, I get it. That's ok, it can be a bit robust. But you still need something... chèvre, possibly Camembert, or that non-overpowering bleu of your choice.  It needs to be creamy, but it's up to you whether the note is funk, tang, or earthy.
So,  if you choose to go with a bleu, what are you looking for?
Slight funk with earthiness? Cambozola.
A LOVELY creamy bleu-ness that may just be my favorite bleu? Saint Agur.
Saltier, crumblier, more sharp? Maybe Maytag.
Point being, there are a lot of bleu/ue cheeses out there with different characters. How strong a note that cheese plays in the salad would be up to you.

If you plate individual servings, toss the greens and onion with the vinaigrette (or drizzle over those individual servings), then divide everything else among the salads- perhaps opting to finish with a small wedge of cheese instead of a crumbled shower (or in the case of that decidedly sticky Cambozola, sliced pieces). Of course, the texture of the cheese you choose would ultimately play into the decision.

I'd recommend delicate greens here. If a "spring mix" isn't available, or the idea of spring greens in autumn isn't your thing, you can still go for smaller and more tender greens as opposed to the heartier or more bitter options.

 

This salad could be a large dinner serving for two as a meal, or possibly a much smaller starter for 8.
Scale down as need be.

Figs might be a nice addition- good fresh ones or dried.


Pear and Bleu Cheese Salad
serves 2-8

1 1/2 T (23 ml) balsamic vinegar (aged and syrupy is nicer, though any will do)
1 clove garlic, smashed with the side of a knife
1/2 t (small spoonful) Dijon mustard
6 T (90 ml) olive oil (give or take)
1/4 t freshly ground black pepper (to taste)
1/4 t salt (to taste)

5 oz (142 g) tender mixed greens (or baby spinach)
6 slices bacon, cooked and chopped
1/3 small red onion, sliced  (about 1/2 c or 50 g)
1 pear, ripe but firm (Bartlett/Williams, maybe Comice or Bosc), quartered, cored, and sliced
1/3 c (30 g) toasted and chopped pecans
Bleu cheese of choice (or non-bleu cheese of choice), to taste


Rub the sides and bottom of a small bowl with the smashed garlic. Leave the garlic in the bottom of the bowl and pour the balsamic vinegar over it. Add the Dijon mustard and whisk to incorporate. Slowly stream in the olive oil, all the while whisking, starting with less and later adding more after tasting as necessary. Adjust as required, then season with salt and pepper and set aside until ready to use,  re-whisking and removing the garlic before using.

In a large bowl, toss the greens with vinaigrette to taste (again, start with less and add more as need be). Add the bacon, onions, pecans, and pear and gently toss. Add the cheese to taste and serve. 
Another option is to plate the greens, distribute the bacon, onions, pear, and pecans among the salads, drizzle with vinaigrette and top with crumbled or sliced bleu cheese. 

(...those Emerald Beaut Plums with their contrasting blush...)