Apple Pie: SO Last Thanksgiving

Give this Thanksgiving an alluring je ne sais quoi by serving apple tarte tatin instead of plain old pie

By Katy Such

The American apple pie, classic though it is, can go terribly wrong. First, there’s the apple choice, with the wrong one leading to applesauce or an unappealing crunch. Then, there’s pastry. Unless you’re a regular pie maker, or willing to buy frozen hydrogenated-fat-laden circles, pastry’s a challenge for the already expectation-laden Thanksgiving meal.

Of course, there’s the beloved pumpkin pie: sometimes tarted up in mousses and crème pies, masquerading as something other than the heavy winter-squash that it is.

Or…there’s a tarte tatin, less fancily known as an upside down apple tart. I liken this particular Thanksgiving dessert to flying a plane: the takeoff is a little challenging, a bunch of automatic stuff happens in the middle, and you have to stick the landing…but do all of these things, and you’ll be rewarded with a golden-hued, deeply seasonal dessert with just enough tradition to keep the table happy.

Alan Davidson’s esoteric Oxford Companion to Food says that the tarte tatin was originally named after the restaurant-owning Tatin sisters in early twentieth century France. As with all things fruit- and pastry-related, it’s hard to go wrong with the French. The tart is burnished brown apples and sugar on top of a thin, rich crust—the essence of late-season apples, decadent and autumnal.

This classic is made with just a handful of ingredients: butter (quite a lot, but it is the holidays), apples, sugar, flour, a trace amount of salt, and ice water. Only the first 15 minutes and the turnout are in any way a challenge.

A word about the apples: because of the alchemy of the sugar and apple combination, it’s hard to go wrong with your apple choice, as long as you don’t use Delicious apples. If you can find an heirloom variety like Cox’s Orange Pippen or Winesap, terrific—that will take the dessert from very very good to transcendent. But if you can’t, a Granny Smith or any tart variety is fine.

Also, this tart is best made on the day you intend to serve it. It’s very nice (but not crucial) if you are able to serve it warm: if that timing is too tricky for an already burdened Thanksgiving, you can make it in the morning and set it aside. Re-warming can toughen the crust, so in this instance it’s probably better to just serve it at room temperature. And finally, note that you’ll want to allow your crust to rest in the refrigerator for at least half an hour (more time is fine—you can even mix the crust the day before and chill it).

The recipe that follows is adapted from A is for Apple by Greg Patent and Dorothy Hinshaw Patent.

Ingredients and Supplies:

For the pastry:
One cup of regular all-purpose flour
One quarter teaspoon of salt – or just pinch a small amount
One tablespoon of sugar
One stick of chilled unsalted butter, cut into six or eight pieces
One quarter cup to 1/3 cup of chilled liquid: water is fine, but if I have apple cider, I use that. Chill more than you think you need, as flour and cooking conditions are not exact.

For the filling:
Seven tablespoons of butter cut into five or six pieces (you will be melting it, so temperature does not matter here)
One cup of sugar (regular white sugar is fine)
Two large or three medium apples, for a total of about 2 pounds

Specific Equipment:
Food processor (if possible)
Cast iron, 8-inch diameter pan

For the pastry, this technique goes much better with a food processor. Give the flour, salt, and sugar a quick spin to combine, then add the butter pieces on top. Process until the dry ingredients and the butter look like coarse meal, or until the butter pieces are the size of small peas. Then add ¼ cup of water or cider, processing until the mixture just begins to come together (after about 30 seconds of pulsing, add more liquid a teaspoon at a time, and pulse). You don’t want the mixture to quite form a ball, but you do want it to adhere. To double check, take a pinch and see if it holds together. If time and patience are short, you can use puff pastry. Unlike frozen pie pastry, there’s no shame in it. If you’re using frozen puff, follow the directions for thawing.

Tip the mixture out onto a lightly floured work surface and quickly knead the dough into a flattened disk. There is a fancy name for this called “fraisage,” but really, you’re just smearing the mixture into a coherent mass. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate.

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

The filling seems intimidating, but recall you only have to pay attention at the beginning and the end. Peel and slice your apples into six or eight slices (six is more substantial, eight is more elegant). If you have time, allow them to dry slightly; the discoloration won’t matter after the apples have caramelized. After slicing, add the butter and sugar in the skillet. An 8-inch cast iron pan is perfect. Caramelize the butter and sugar by heating them together on medium heat until they form a smooth, brown, caramel. They will not combine perfectly; there will still be butter around the edges, and that is perfectly fine.

Haven’t made caramel before? The early stages look all wrong: it’s grainy and curdled and separate. Patience is called for, and enough stirring so that it does not burn (constant stirring is not necessary). Once it’s a smooth brown mass, you’re ready.

At this point, pull either the prepared pastry or the puff pastry out of the refrigerator, and roll it out to fit into the skillet—it’s best if the circle is just large enough to tuck about half an inch of crust under the apples.

Arrange the apples on top of the caramel in a circular pattern, with the apples overlapping slightly. The caramel is very hot, so avoid contact—after you’ve arranged the circle of apples, pile the remaining slices in the middle. Drape the crust over the top of the apples, cut two small (3/4 of an inch) vents in the top, and bang it into the preheated oven.

Depending on your oven, begin checking it at about half an hour to forty minutes. When the crust is browned to your liking (note: it has to hold up the tart, so you want it to be a deep brown, not tan), and you can see liquid bubbling at the edges, it’s time for it to come out. At this point, tip the pan slightly. If there is still liquid (the measure I use is whether or not there’s enough liquid to come close to the edge of the pan) finish it on the stove top on medium heat, long enough to concentrate the liquid and likely not more than five or ten minutes—tip it periodically to see how much liquid is left. It’s hard to predict if this will be necessary; much depends on the apple variety.

Okay, now the hard part. You’ll need to flip the tart over onto a serving plate when it comes out of the oven. The crust is substantial, and it’ll flip out nicely, but because of the heat of the caramelized sugar, be careful. Best to do this with confidence—if you’re diffident with the tart, it may slide or some of the apples may be displaced. If this happens, just nudge them back with a silicon spatula. If this process makes you nervous, try a practice run before the holiday—I never make a recipe for the first time with guests since I like to know how it will react without stage fright. I promise you’ll eat it.

Finally, let the tart cool (on a rack if you have it), and serve either elegantly plain or with whipped or ice cream (for Thanksgiving, I like to dash some cinnamon on top of the cream as an accent).

You’ll never miss pumpkin.