The summer season at Lake Tahoe lasted 13 weekends this year, and we managed to soak up an impressive 11 of them.  We’d sneak out of work a little early on Friday and shoot up the mountain ahead of the evening crush.  We stayed in cheap motels, a few decent condos and occasionally at a swanky cabin owned by one of my coworkers.  But it never much mattered where we were staying because our days were spent on that breathtaking, sparkling expanse of blue water.  Every morning, we’d pack our boat with a picnic and a little wine, smear ourselves with sunscreen and set out for a long relaxing day of sunshine and total, decadent inactivity.

At the beginning of the summer, we’d often get out there and I’d wonder, in a moment of panic, what in the world will we do all day?  I’m so used to juggling tasks and busying myself with work and errands that the idea of sitting on a boat with only a book and a stack of magazines to distract me seemed a little daunting.

But it’s amazing how quickly you slow down when you have nowhere to go and nothing to do.  By the end of the season, I was so accustomed to the whole routine of nothingness that the day would sometimes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.  As the season wore on, the sun would start to sink toward the west shore just a little earlier each evening.  And we knew it all had to come to an end.

Indeed, the weather turns quickly at 6,500 feet elevation.  Last weekend, with a tear in our eyes, we pulled the boat out of the water and towed it down the hill for winter storage Reno.

We’ll always have pictures to remember the summer by, and surely next summer will be here before we know it.  In the meantime, I’ll have more time for baking and cooking now that we’re spending more time at home.

Just this week I made almond butter cookies one evening while Moe watched football in the living room.  Shorter days… football… cookies in the oven.  A new season begins.

Chewy Almond Butter Cookies

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
½ cup creamy almond butter
½ cup firmly packed light brown sugar
½ cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 ½ cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar

Preheat the oven to 375.  Grease two cookie sheets.

Cream the butter, almond butter and sugars in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment.  Beat until light and fluffy.  Beat in the egg and vanilla until fully incorporated.

Sift together the flour, baking soda and salt in another bowl.  Add to the butter mixture and beat just until combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a spatula.

Drop batter by the tablespoonful and flatten slightly with the back of a fork.  Sprinkle each cookie with a pinch of turbinado sugar and bake 7-9 minutes for soft, chewy cookies, 9-11 minutes for denser cookies.

Serve warm.  Cool completely and store in an airtight container for up to four days.

We ended up with a large bag of cherries after we hit the farm stands on our way back from Yosemite a few weeks ago which frankly weren’t so great after about the third day.  The weather turned warm here in San Francisco all of a sudden and the cherries got a little  soft and squishy sitting out on the countertop… I’m one of those people who loves cherries but only when they’re super firm and sweet.  What to do with not-so-great fresh cherries?  Bake a pie!  But instead of one large pie, I went for these petite pies.  They have a higher proportion of crust to fruit (and who doesn’t love a little more crust?) and they pack well for a picnic or hike.  Cherry season won’t last long, but you can substitute sliced plums or apricots (and the corresponding dried fruit) later in the summer.  Enjoy!

Cherry petite pies

1 ½ tablespoon corn starch
2 cups fresh cherries, rinsed, stemmed and pitted*
2/3 cup dried cherries
1 tablespoon cherry liqueur
½ cup granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ teaspoon grated lemon zest
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 14-oz package frozen all-butter puff pastry
Flour, for dusting
1 large egg white
1 ½ teaspoon raw (turbinado) sugar

Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.  Stir cornstarch into 1 ½ tablespoons cold water in a small bowl and stir with a fork until cornstarch is fully absorbed.  Combine fresh cherries, dried cherries, liqueur, sugar and vanilla in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the cherries release their juices.  (You can gently mash the cherries with the back of a wooden spoon as they cook to encourage this process.)  Stir in cornstarch mixture and bring to a boil, stirring constantly.  Remove from heat, stir in lemon zest, and let cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally.

Roll out pastry on a lightly floured surface to an 18×15 inch rectangle.  Using a sharp knife, cut dough into nine 6×5 inch rectangles.  Whisk egg white with 1 tbsp cold water in a small bowl to make an egg wash.  Set egg wash aside.

Working with one pastry rectangle at a time, place on a work surface and brush edges with egg wash using a small pastry brush.  Scoop three tablespoons cooled cherry filling onto one side.  Fold dough over the filling so the short ends meet.  Press edges together with fingertips then crimp and seal with the tines of a fork.  Using a paring knife, cut a few slits into the top of the pie to create vents, then transfer to prepared baking sheet. Repeat with remaining pastry rectangles and filling.  Brush each pie with remaining egg wash and sprinkle with turbinado sugar.

Chill assembled pies for 30 minutes. While they are chilling, preheat oven to 375F  and bake pastries until tops are flaky and golden brown, 30-40 minutes.  Let cool for 10 minutes on baking sheets before transferring to wire racks to cool.

Note: I don’t generally push kitchen gadgets, but a cherry pitter is an especially helpful tool for this recipe and any recipe calling for fresh cherries.  You can pick one up for less than $10.

Well, I’ve just wrapped up my travel diary on Bali. Wasn’t it fun? Even I’m enjoying going back and reading about all the adventures I had there with my little sister, Kate. It was a trip I’ll never forget, and I’m so glad we did it together.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any more exotic vacations planned for the foreseeable future, so I’m afraid we’re going to have to go back to basics here on the blog: food and cooking. But what a great time of year it is for those two things! Springtime is right around the corner, which means berries, stone fruit and other warm-weather treats. And longer days mean more time to spend in the kitchen and sitting around the table… the best kinds of therapy.

So I’m going to jump the gun here a little bit and post a recipe for a peach crostata. Peaches are already in the grocery stores, which is a little scary given that there’s still snow on the ground in much of the country. Indeed, they come from Chile, which means they have quite the journey from farm to fork…. not exactly seasonal or local. But I bought a few this week because I simply couldn’t resist an early taste of the warmer season. They were ridiculously expensive (I think they flew first class from Santiago) and a little mealy from the journey, but they were peachy nonetheless.

What to do with peaches that are too mealy to eat fresh and too expensive to throw away? Bake them into a crostata, a free-from pie baked flat on a cookie sheet. Crostata is hardly a recipe, really, and more of a strategy: you just roll out a round of pie dough (use your favorite recipe that yields enough dough for a nine-inch, single-crust pie), arrange the peaches in the middle, and fold the edges up and around the fruit. I used three medium peaches; first I removed the skins (dunk them in boiling water for 45 seconds… it will peel right off), then I sliced them and tossed them in a mixture of 1 teaspoon corn starch and about 1/3 cup sugar. I squeezed half of a lemon over the peach & sugar mixture, for a little zing, and then arranged the slices in concentric circles over a 12-inch round of pie dough placed right onto a cookie sheet, dotting the peaches with little bits of butter and folding the edges up in the last step to keep the peachy juices in while it baked. If you want, you can brush the crust with a little egg wash (one egg lightly beaten with 1 tablespoon water) and sprinkle the egg wash with turbinado sugar.

That’s all. Like I said, it’s more of a strategy than a recipe, which is why I’ve written it in paragraph form. And it works with all kinds of fruit, fresh or frozen. You can use more or less sugar, depending upon how naturally sweet the fruit is, and more or less corn starch depending upon how juicy the fruit is.

Serve a crostata with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, while it’s still just a tad warm.

Now… aren’t you glad springtime’s almost here?

This salad combines beets — a vegetable that’s available nearly year-round at Northern California farmer’s markets, with two herbs I grow nearly year-round in my own garden.  I almost never buy herbs from the grocery store, in fact, because it takes such little effort to grow them yourself and it’s so much more economical.  Instead of paying $2.99 for cut basil at the market that will whither and fade within about five days, I pay 99 cents for a four-inch pot of basil at my local hardware store and have a living plant that regenerates cuts stems throughout the warmer months.  I’ve been growing parsley, tarragon, chervil, and sage the same way this year, too.  They don’t require special soil or a lot of fuss, and they provide an endless supply of fresh flavor as long as you do the simple things like remember to water them regularly and trim dead or insect-bitten leaves.  Grow yourself a little herb garden this fall and everything from pasta to omelettes will all of a sudden seem so much more interesting.

In this beet salad, be sure to ribbon the mint extra-fine so you get its fresh, delicate flavor without the rough texture.  For a quick tutorial on how to make herb ribbons, check out my Video Page.  About halfway down the page, you’ll find one called “Basil Ribbons.”  The technique works for mint and many other kinds of broad, firm-leafed herbs.

If you can’t find red chard, substitute baby spinach.  I like baby chard for purely aesthetic reasons: I like the red veining in the leaves.

3 red beets
3 yellow beets
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
2 tbsp orange juice
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp grated orange zest
2 tbsp finely ribboned fresh mint
2 tbsp finely ribboned fresh Italian basil
1/4 tsp salt
freshly ground black pepper to taste.
6 ounces baby red chard

Cut the greens from the beets, leaving about two inches of stem intact.  Do not peel or further trim the actual root.  Scrub them vigorously with a vegetable brush to remove any dirt or debris.  Place them in a medium pot and cover with two inches of water.  Bring to a simmer and cook, covered, for about 40 minutes or until the beets are tender.  (Pierce one with a fork to test.)  Larger beets may take longer, smaller beets may cook more quickly.  Remove the cooked beets from the water and allow to cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, prepare the dressing.  Whisk the vinegar, orange juice, olive oil, orange zest, basil, and mint in a medium bowl until blended.  (Reserve some herbs to use as a garnish, if desired.) Add salt and pepper to taste.  Set aside.

Once the beets are cool, gently pull the skins and stems off using your fingers. They should just peel away.  (Wear gloves if you don’t want your hands stained purple, and be sure to protect your clothing!)  Dice the beets into 1/2-inch cubes.

Toss the cubed beets with the dressing and refrigerate for at least twenty minutes (this will allow the dressing to penetrate the beets before serving.)  Taste for additional salt and pepper, then arrange over a bed of the chard or other greens.  Garnish with additional chopped fresh basil and mint.

It’s that good.

I love it because Mark writes like he’s talking to you over a glass of wine.  He takes his time to explain things and he explains them in plain English.  And he doesn’t just throw a bunch of recipes at you, he always starts with the big picture idea defines each section of the book, then he drills down to the nitty-gritty of what you need to know.  It’s a logical book.  It’s a practical book.

And it’s all about vegetarian cooking, which appeals to me because I’m mostly vegetarian (I eat fish) and because I do think that if more of us cut down on our meat consumption, the world would probably be a better place. Mark happens to agree.  I love this quote, from the beginning of the book:

“My cooking and eating life has changed greatly in the three years since I began working on How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.  I wasn’t a vegetarian then, and I’m not one now.  But I’m a lot closer, for two reasons: one, I have a far greater appreciation for the noncarnivorous world.  And two, the world is changing in a way that is going to push all of us, reluctantly or not, towards being at least semi vegetarian; our rate of meat consumption simply cannot be justified, and that’s not going away.”

Anyway, I think the highlight of the book is the chapter on veggie burgers.  Mark gives a birds-eye view of the whole meatless-patty-making process and then offers a selection of seasonally-themed recipes.  Taking inspiration from this section, I developed the following lentil burgers, which I’m calling Superwoman Lentil Patties because 1) I felt like Superwoman after creating something so delicious out of stuff I had lying around in my pantry and 2) the nutritional value of these patties will make you feel like Superwoman after you eat them.  Lentils are packed with fiber and protein, the carrots have vitamin A, and the spinach offers calcium and iron.  They’re really a complete meal.

1/2 cup uncooked lentils, rinsed and picked over
1 small shallot, peeled
1 clove garlic, peeled
1 scallion
1 cup loosely packed spinach leaves, rinsed and dried
1/4 cup roughly chopped fresh parsley
1 carrot, grated
1 small yellow zucchini, grated (about 1/2 cup grated)
3 teaspoons dijon mustard
1 tablespoon ketchup
1 egg
1/2 cup oats
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 to 1/2 cup breadcrumbs

Place the lentils in a medium saucepan and cover with 1 inch of water.  Bring to a simmer and cook, uncovered, until tender.  (About 30 minutes.)  Drain in a collander.

Place the shallot and garlic in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade attachment.  Process until finely grated.  Add the lentils and all remaining ingredients except the breadcrumbs.  Pulse until the texture of coarse meal, scraping down the sides of the bowl several times until all ingredients are incorporated. (If you do not have a food processor, mince the garlic and shallot by hand, chop the scallion, spinach, and parsley, then mash all ingredients–excluding the bread crumbs–together in a medium bowl using a potato masher.)

Transfer the mixture to a medium bowl and add enough bread crumbs until the mixture holds together.  It will still seem quite wet, but don’t worry, this is to be expected.  Refrigerate the mixture for 30 minutes.

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.  Form patties with the lentil mixture and place in the hot oil for 2-3 minutes on each side, or until golden brown.  Transfer to a sheet pan lined with paper towels to drain excess oil.

Serve with burger fixin’s and potato salad or cole slaw.

Happy Thursday!  I hope you’re having a good week.  Mine started with a weekend full of activity: a two-hour tennis lesson on Saturday followed by a long road bike up to scenic Skyline Boulevard in Oakland.  On Sunday I didn’t leave my apartment once: I spent a leisurely day in the kitchen experimenting with recipes from Mark Bittman’s, “How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.”  I think I have perfected a recipe for some pretty darn delicious lentil burgers and I’m excited to share them with you… soon.

For now, you get zucchini bread.

You see, I’ve got a bumper crop of yellow zucchini and I find myself grating it (or dicing it) and throwing it into just about everything I make these days: omelettes, pasta, muffins, and breads.  It adds a particularly moist and chewy texture to baked goods, which is why I love this recipe.  The buttermilk further tenderizes the bread and adds a subtle bite.  It’s divine.

Zucchini bread is a quick bread, which means it relies on baking soda and baking powder to rise (as opposed to traditional leavened breads, which rely on yeast).  This means it’s a little more convenient to make, since you don’t have to wait for the dough to rise before baking.  Instead, the bread rises in the oven just once, while it bakes.  (Hence the name.)  Quick breads can be savory or sweet, but they’re more often sweet and have the texture of a coarse-crumbed cake.  They’re great for breakfast or dessert with a cup of coffee or tea.  You can even toast a slice and eat it with a dollop of jam or creme fraiche (my favorite!)

The best part?  This particular bread is a little lower in fat than many quick bread recipes because the zucchini and buttermilk provide plenty of rich moisture without the added shortening.  So you can eat it without the guilt.  I made a loaf of this bread last week, brought it to my office, and then set my stopwatch: The entire loaf was gone in 22 minutes.

1 1/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons butter, softened
2 eggs
1 cup shredded zucchini
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 1/2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon grated lemon zest

Cream the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment.  (Or in a medium bowl using a hand mixer.)  Add the eggs one at a time.  Whisk in the shredded zucchini, buttermilk, and vanilla.

In another bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, nutmeg, and grated lemon zest.

Add the dry ingredients to the butter-sugar mixture in two to three batches, beating gently between batches just until incorporated.  Do not overmix.

Pour the batter into a lightly greased 8 1/2-inch by 4 1/2-inch loaf pan and bake at 350F for 50-55 minutes.  The top should spring back when pressed lightly.  Cool completely before serving.

Scott and Jessie are real-life people and they’re good friends of mine; I’ve known Jessie since elementary school and Scott is her husband.  I’ve always thought Jessie was one of the smartest, most together girls I could ever meet and I wondered whether she would find a guy funny, sweet and charming enough to marry.  And you know what?  Scott is all that and more.  He helps with the dishes and provides technical support and handyman services for her immediate and extended family.  He once rescued a giant turtle from the pond in their backyard.  He affectionately calls Jessie, “Buddy.”  I’d tell you how they met (’cause you’re probably wondering where you can find a guy like Scott to marry yourself), but it has something to do with Jessie hitting on him while he was her TA in college and I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.

Anyway, I spent a weekend with Scott and Jessie last month at Bass Lake, where Jessie’s family has a house.  I’ve gone to Bass Lake with her family countless times over the years.  She used to bring a whole group of us girls up every summer, in fact, and we’d get into all kinds of trouble with the local boys.  We’d sunbathe by day and then sneak out of the house at night to drink beer at the home of any local kid whose parents were out of town.  If only Jessie’s poor mother knew.

Now we girls are grownups, mostly married or committed in some way, and so are the local boys.  So our weekends in Bass Lake are pretty civilized.  Last month while I was there, our days went pretty much like this: We’d lounge on the dock from morning till dusk, taking the boat out for a spin whenever the mood struck.  Sometime between 4 and 5 pm, we’d head up to the house to pack a little happy hour picnic–cheese, crackers, crudite, dip, shrimp cocktail, and a bottle of wine–and head back to the dock for sunset.    A few hours later, we’d fire up the barbeque and have dinner on the deck.  After dinner, a little more reading or perhaps a movie.  Then bed.  In the morning?  Repeat.

Scott and Jess made this salad one night and I fell in love with it.  It’s a surprising combination of flavors: The melon is cool and sweet but the serrano chili gives the dressing a hot kick.  Feta adds a little savory saltiness and the thyme lends a touch of earthiness.  Spinach is the perfect backdrop for it all.  I made it myself for dinner last night and I could almost hear the gentle waves of the lake, lapping under the dock and calling me back.

10 sprigs thyme
1 serrano chili
1 small shallot
juice and zest of 1/2 lime
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup canola oil
1/2 cup champagne or white wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt
5 oz fresh baby spinach, rinsed and dried
3 lbs seedless watermelon
4 oz crumbled feta

Remove the thyme leaves from the sprigs by gripping each sprig with your thumb and forefinger near one end and, with your other hand, pulling the sprig away from you so that your thumb and finger run along the stem opposite to the direction that the leaves grow.  Set aside half of the leaves to use as garnish.  Place the remaining leaves in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade along with the serrano chili (remove some or all of the seeds for less heat), shallot, lime juice and zest, olive oil, canola oil, vinegar, and salt.  Pulse a few times until the chili and shallot are chopped, then process until the dressing is smooth and emulsified.

In a large bowl, toss the spinach with the dressing until it is fully coated, reserving 1/4 cup of the dressing for the last step.  Arrange the dressed spinach in equal quantities among four plates.  Slice the watermelon as thinly as possible and arrange over the spinach.  Sprinkle the crumbled feta over the watermelon and garnish with the remaining thyme leaves.  Drizzle the remaining dressing over the feta, about 1 tablespoon per plate.  Serve immediately.

Why tomatoes? Well, just look at them.  They’re pretty and they’re so fun to photograph… bright shades of green and gold and red.  Is there any other fruit that comes in so many lovely colors?  I can’t think of one.  Plus they’re nutritious little guys… packed with vitamin C, antioxidants and lycopene.  They’re like colorful little multivitamins that taste like candy.  At the peak of summer, they’re unbelievably sweet.

Besides these peppy little cherries, I’ve got heirlooms coming, but it’s been such a cool summer here in the Bay Area that it’s taking for-ehhhh-ver for them to mature.  They’restill green and hard and gnarled in their heirloom-ey sort of way.  Yesterday, at long last, we got a blast of warm weather.  A few more weeks of weather like this and I’ll have my heirlooms by the end of September.

For now, I’ve been buying heirlooms at the farmers market and making my favorite summertime soup: gazpacho.  My dad, who indeed descends from the Spaniards (gazpacho is a Spanish soup), used to make it from veggies picked from our home garden and serve it for dinner.  I still associate the fresh, peppery flavor of gazpacho with the warm, lazy summertimes of my childhood. Recently, I went through a couple of weeks where I was going on a lot of business dinners (too many, actually) and I kept coming back to gazpacho as a sort of detox/weight-maintenance dinner in between rich restaurant meals.  The soup is filling but pretty light, and packed with nutrition — really a giant salad in soup form.  It makes me feel great. 

I also love gazpacho because it’s about the easiest soup in the world to make, and it’s forgiving: I mess around with the proportions all the time depending upon what I’ve got in the garden (or in the fridge) and it always turns out just fine. Just dump whatever fresh produce you’ve got into a food processor (or blender), season, whirl, and serve.  That’s the basic formula and it works every time.

Dad’s Gazpacho

1 medium heirloom tomato
1 handful cherry tomatoes
1/2 cucumber, peeled (about a four-inch piece)
1/2 red bell pepper, seeds removed
1/4 cup olive oil
2 T balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup champagne vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

Chop the heirloom tomato and cucumber into 1-inch cubes.  Combine with the rest of the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor.  Process until liquefied.  Chill at least 20 minutes, re-stir and serve cold.

This photo pretty much sums up my weekend… beautiful, relaxing, and a tad bit decadent.  Saturday morning I hit the Grand-Lake farmer’s market and loaded up on all kinds of edible treasures I didn’t really need but simply couldn’t resist: cherries, strawberries, apricots, eggs, herbs, green kale, garlic, turnips, lavender honey, and a loaf of mushroom-potato flatbread.  Just as I was wondering what I was going to do with all that food, my friend Yvonne called and asked if  I was free to get together.  Sure! I said.  C’mon over for brunch tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I had the rest of Saturday all to myself with no plans whatsoever.  I finished graduate school five weeks ago and I’m still not quite accustomed to the stillness of my school-free weekends.  But I’m working hard at adjusting: I spent the rest of the day on the couch with a book.  I’m halfway through a riveting piece of historical fiction, The Help, which fills me with utter dismay one moment and unbounded hope the next.  It’s hard to believe that less than fifty years ago folks in Mississippi were building separate bathrooms—outdoors—for their African American housekeepers because they thought it unsanitary to share a toilet.  And yet it’s painfully, painfully true.

Saturday night I had the pleasure of attending a dinner party with some of my Wharton classmates at our friend Prasad’s house in Fremont.  You’ve never seen such a fabulous home!  It must be 5000 square feet and his lovely wife Risha has filled it with some incredible pieces of artwork and sculpture.  But in traditional Indian style, dinner wasn’t served until after 10pm, so it was a late night.  I stumbled into my apartment (which suddenly felt very much like a shoebox) well past midnight.

This morning, by some small miracle, I got myself out of bed for an early run and then put together a pretty fantastic spread with Saturday’s farmer’s market bounty.  Yvonne and I feasted at my breakfast counter and got lost in conversation for a good couple of hours.  But when she left, I realized I had forgotten the apricots: There they were still in a paper bag tucked behind some cookbooks on the counter.

And so I thumbed through the June issue of Martha Stewart Living, and lo and behold… there was a recipe for apricots in all their luscious, golden glory: Almond-Apricot Tart.

I think I’m legal in printing the recipe here because I’ve modified it just a bit.  The original version yielded too much filling, so I pared it down.  I also think whipped cream needs a little sugar and vanilla when it’s paired with uncooked, unsweetened fruit, so I added both.  But you can leave it unsweetened if you prefer.

Still, you should pick up a copy of the magazine, not only for this recipe but because it’s filled with all kinds of other fun things this month: Some lovely photography of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, some great recipes for summertime libations, and a fun piece on collecting antique citrus juicers.  I know we all love to hate Martha, but she really does publish a beautiful magazine.

Make the Crust

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup blanched almonds, toasted*
4 tablespoons softened unsalted butter
1/3 cup confectioners sugar
1 large egg yolk
Pinch of salt

Pulse the almonds and flour in a food processor and set aside.  Beat butter and confectioner’s sugar with a mixer fitted with the whisk attachment until pale and fluffy, about 5 minutes.  Add flour mixture, yolk, and the salt.  Mix until the dough comes together, then turn out into a 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom.  Using the heel of your hand or the bottom of a lightly greased drinking glass, press the dough over the bottom and up the sides of the tart pan.  Refrigerate one hour.

Make the Filling

6 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 large egg yolks
1/4 cup light corn syrup
3 tablespoons brown sugar
3 tablespoons Myers rum
3 tablespoons heavy cream
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 325F.  Heat the butter in a saucepan over medium-high heat until browned, about 3-4 minutes.  Remove from heat and allow to cool at least 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, beat the yolks, corn syrup, and brown sugar in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes.  Mix in the browned butter, scraping the bottom of the pan to get all the browned solids.  Add the rum, cream and vanilla and continue to beat until smooth.

Remove the tart shell from the refrigerator and pour the filling into it.  Bake until the crust is golden and the filling is just barely set in the middle, about 40 minutes.  Allow to cool on a rack.

Prepare the Topping

6 medium firm-ripe apricots, pitted and sliced thinly
2 cups heavy cream, cold
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Arrange the apricots in concentric circles, starting at the outside edge, until the surface of the tart filling is covered.  Beat the cold cream with the sugar and vanilla until soft peaks form.  Serve each wedge of the tart with a dollop of whipped cream.  (Note, the apricots will start to turn brown within 30 minutes, so you’ll want to assemble this tart as close to serving time as possible.  If you must make it a few hours ahead, brush the apricots with melted, strained apricot jelly to “seal” them, then cover with plastic wrap.)

*To toast the almonds, spread them in a single layer over a cookie sheet and toast in a 325F oven for 5-10 minutes, stirring them with a wooden spoon every two minutes.  Alternatively, you can toss them gently in a hot, un-greased cast iron skillet over a medium-high flame.  Be careful not to let them burn.  Allow to cool completely before using.

But wait. Can we not go there yet?  It is still Sunday, after all, and I’m stuck in this dreamy weekend-induced state of mind.  The weather here in San Francisco was spectacular, which drew me outdoors for all sorts of fun.  Yesterday I did a little gardening.  My dahlias are just coming up out of the ground (a new post with updated photos is coming soon, I promise!) and I decided, on a whim, to plant the rest of the garden with vegetables: Tomatoes, hot peppers, squash, cucumber, and a pumpkin.  I also started some sunflowers from seed in little four-inch pots, and tore out an old azalea that’s been good and dead for over a year.  It felt good to get the yard cleaned up and to put some healthy veggies in the ground, which is still damp and sweet-smelling from the recent rains.

Last night I went to a dinner party at the home of my former classmate, Anirban, and his beautiful wife, Bonnie.  It was a reunion of sorts with my study team from Wharton, and we had a grand ol’ time eating and laughing and dancing barefoot to Bollywood music in the living room.  You’d think we just graduated from middle school, but no… it was a Masters program.  You’ll have to take my word for it.

Today I had a book club gathering with my fabulous book club girls; We brunched on pastries and mimosas outdoors in a gorgeous sun-drenched (though characteristically breezy) San Francisco backyard.  We chatted about The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson, which is creepy and disturbing but utterly addicting.  I came home and didn’t do much of anything: I read the paper (that would be the New York Times, of course), read my favorite magazine, The Sun, and then went for a walk.  And that’s where I picked these lovely wildflowers: sweet pea and nasturtium that grow on a hillside near my home.

Did you have a wonderful weekend, too?  I hope you’ll tell me all about it.