Recipes: Chocolate Pumpkin Caramel Tart. In a casserole dish.
Ingredients:
chocolate ganache left over from the fondue at that catering gig you worked three weeks ago
most of a can of canned pumpkin left over from when you thought you'd try mixing some into your chai
the caramel sauce you ended up with when you tried to make homemade Scotchmallows the other day and failed
1 stick of butter, unsalted
some flour, about a cup and a half
brown sugar, about a cup
oats, a handful
pumpkin pie spices, whatever you have
something like 1 tsp baking soda, because who even fucking knows about leavening
an egg, for good measure
also, some salt
Directions:
The pie plate is too big for the amount of pumpkin you have. And these tart pans are too small. Two of them? Nah, too much work. Where's that set of casserole dishes you got for your college apartment and then never used again because you moved back home five years ago and haven't left? There's a nice 1.5 qt dish that should be perfect.
In your favorite small mixing bowl, dump the flour, brown sugar, and a pinch of salt. Shit, there's no unsalted butter that isn't frozen. Well, it doesn't matter, you can use salted butter. No you can't, you already added the salt. Fuck. Get a frozen stick of unsalted butter and put it in the microwave for ten second intervals until you just don't care anymore.
Preheat the oven. It's set to 350 degrees anyway so go with that. I like the convection setting. It cooks faster.
Cut the now just-barely defrosted butter into chunks and work it into the flour and brown sugar mixture with a pastry cutter. Or a knife and fork, if you don't have a pastry cutter. Or a food processor, if you're a fucking wimp. Mix in the oats.
Press the resulting mixture into the bottom and sides of the casserole dish. Realize you used way too much flour for the amount of sugar and butter. Separate out the chunks of butter from the loose flour by sifting with your fingers. Curse yourself for never learning. Examine the casserole dish. Sprinkle in some more of the mixture, just in case. Put the casserole dish in the oven to blind bake for ten minutes.
The chocolate ganache has been in a container in the back of your fridge for three weeks, so set up a double boiler to melt it. Ideally, you'd like it to be liquid enough to pour into the bottom of the crust, but not so hot that it causes problems with the pumpkin layer you'll be putting on top.
Dump the canned pumpkin into a bowl. Stare at it while thinking. Add some sugar. Don't add any sugar. It comes out too sweet. Add some pumpkin pie spices. Ginger, cinnamon, ground cloves, nutmeg. That stuff. About a teaspoon of each, but who really cares? Add spices until it smells like pumpkin pie to you.
It seems too liquidy. You want distinct layers. Spot the bowl of leftover flour/butter/sugar/oats mixture.
At this point the oven timer should go off. Take out the casserole dish with the blind baked crust and set it aside for a minute. Take the chocolate off the heat, too.
Stir dry ingredients into spiced pumpkin until the consistency seems right. Look at it doubtfully. Add an egg, just because. Add some more flour stuff, to make up for the liquid.
Add some baking soda. I think, anyway. Could have been baking powder. Who knows.
Pour the melted chocolate into the crust. Tilt the casserole dish around to get full coverage. Recall that the caterer made this particular batch of chocolate ganache with almond milk. Wonder if that will make a difference. Remind yourself that the world is ultimately doomed and nothing we ever do will make a difference at all.
Carefully plop the pumpkin mixture on top of the chocolate, again, trying to keep distinct layers. Spread it around a little with a spatula to reach the edges of the dish.
Pour the caramel sauce on top. Frown at how it seems to pool in the middle. Add some more. Perhaps this step should be reconsidered.
Put this dessert catastrophe in the oven for ten minutes. Clean the kitchen.
Open the oven when the timer goes off and study the puffy-edged cake thing that seems to be emerging. Say, "Interesting," to yourself and set the timer for another ten minutes.
Consider again. There's more cake stuff happening, but there's a pool of caramel sauce in the middle and the whole thing seems very wobbly. Give it five more minutes.
A toothpick inserted into the cakey part does not come out clean. Do you want it to come out clean? I think a pudding/custard/mousse -y consistency was what you were going for all along, don't you? Give it five more minutes.
When you wiggle the dish back and forth the middle is still very wobbly. Give it five more minutes.
The pool of caramel sauce has decreased dramatically, but you still might like a bit less. Give it three more minutes.
Finally remove this Lovecraftian horror from the oven and set it on a rack to cool/set. It has risen almost to the rim of the dish and smells very good. Why shouldn't it smell good? There's nothing in there that doesn't smell good on its own. Wonder to yourself how far it will fall as it cools and whether the crust/chocolate layer at the bottom is still distinct.
Shrug.
After dinner, carefully cut yourself a piece with a cake server. Don't offer anyone else one yet. Who knows how it actually tastes. Press down firmly at the bottom to cut through the (thankfully) solid crust.
Taste. Carefully.
It's... okay, actually. A little heavy and a little too sweet, but okay. The crust is solid but flaky and buttery. The chocolate is... perhaps not as firm as you'd like and maybe a little too thick. The pumpkin part tastes like pumpkin pie with the feel of a bread pudding. Probably. You don't eat bread pudding. There's kind of a caramel sheen with a light crunch on top. Probably be pretty good with some unsweetened whipped cream.
Offer some to others. Eat some for breakfast, and then some for tea.
Get a stomach ache.
chocolate ganache left over from the fondue at that catering gig you worked three weeks ago
most of a can of canned pumpkin left over from when you thought you'd try mixing some into your chai
the caramel sauce you ended up with when you tried to make homemade Scotchmallows the other day and failed
1 stick of butter, unsalted
some flour, about a cup and a half
brown sugar, about a cup
oats, a handful
pumpkin pie spices, whatever you have
something like 1 tsp baking soda, because who even fucking knows about leavening
an egg, for good measure
also, some salt
Directions:
The pie plate is too big for the amount of pumpkin you have. And these tart pans are too small. Two of them? Nah, too much work. Where's that set of casserole dishes you got for your college apartment and then never used again because you moved back home five years ago and haven't left? There's a nice 1.5 qt dish that should be perfect.
In your favorite small mixing bowl, dump the flour, brown sugar, and a pinch of salt. Shit, there's no unsalted butter that isn't frozen. Well, it doesn't matter, you can use salted butter. No you can't, you already added the salt. Fuck. Get a frozen stick of unsalted butter and put it in the microwave for ten second intervals until you just don't care anymore.
Preheat the oven. It's set to 350 degrees anyway so go with that. I like the convection setting. It cooks faster.
Cut the now just-barely defrosted butter into chunks and work it into the flour and brown sugar mixture with a pastry cutter. Or a knife and fork, if you don't have a pastry cutter. Or a food processor, if you're a fucking wimp. Mix in the oats.
Press the resulting mixture into the bottom and sides of the casserole dish. Realize you used way too much flour for the amount of sugar and butter. Separate out the chunks of butter from the loose flour by sifting with your fingers. Curse yourself for never learning. Examine the casserole dish. Sprinkle in some more of the mixture, just in case. Put the casserole dish in the oven to blind bake for ten minutes.
The chocolate ganache has been in a container in the back of your fridge for three weeks, so set up a double boiler to melt it. Ideally, you'd like it to be liquid enough to pour into the bottom of the crust, but not so hot that it causes problems with the pumpkin layer you'll be putting on top.
Dump the canned pumpkin into a bowl. Stare at it while thinking. Add some sugar. Don't add any sugar. It comes out too sweet. Add some pumpkin pie spices. Ginger, cinnamon, ground cloves, nutmeg. That stuff. About a teaspoon of each, but who really cares? Add spices until it smells like pumpkin pie to you.
It seems too liquidy. You want distinct layers. Spot the bowl of leftover flour/butter/sugar/oats mixture.
At this point the oven timer should go off. Take out the casserole dish with the blind baked crust and set it aside for a minute. Take the chocolate off the heat, too.
Stir dry ingredients into spiced pumpkin until the consistency seems right. Look at it doubtfully. Add an egg, just because. Add some more flour stuff, to make up for the liquid.
Add some baking soda. I think, anyway. Could have been baking powder. Who knows.
Pour the melted chocolate into the crust. Tilt the casserole dish around to get full coverage. Recall that the caterer made this particular batch of chocolate ganache with almond milk. Wonder if that will make a difference. Remind yourself that the world is ultimately doomed and nothing we ever do will make a difference at all.
Carefully plop the pumpkin mixture on top of the chocolate, again, trying to keep distinct layers. Spread it around a little with a spatula to reach the edges of the dish.
Pour the caramel sauce on top. Frown at how it seems to pool in the middle. Add some more. Perhaps this step should be reconsidered.
Put this dessert catastrophe in the oven for ten minutes. Clean the kitchen.
Open the oven when the timer goes off and study the puffy-edged cake thing that seems to be emerging. Say, "Interesting," to yourself and set the timer for another ten minutes.
Consider again. There's more cake stuff happening, but there's a pool of caramel sauce in the middle and the whole thing seems very wobbly. Give it five more minutes.
A toothpick inserted into the cakey part does not come out clean. Do you want it to come out clean? I think a pudding/custard/mousse -y consistency was what you were going for all along, don't you? Give it five more minutes.
When you wiggle the dish back and forth the middle is still very wobbly. Give it five more minutes.
The pool of caramel sauce has decreased dramatically, but you still might like a bit less. Give it three more minutes.
Finally remove this Lovecraftian horror from the oven and set it on a rack to cool/set. It has risen almost to the rim of the dish and smells very good. Why shouldn't it smell good? There's nothing in there that doesn't smell good on its own. Wonder to yourself how far it will fall as it cools and whether the crust/chocolate layer at the bottom is still distinct.
Shrug.
After dinner, carefully cut yourself a piece with a cake server. Don't offer anyone else one yet. Who knows how it actually tastes. Press down firmly at the bottom to cut through the (thankfully) solid crust.
Taste. Carefully.
It's... okay, actually. A little heavy and a little too sweet, but okay. The crust is solid but flaky and buttery. The chocolate is... perhaps not as firm as you'd like and maybe a little too thick. The pumpkin part tastes like pumpkin pie with the feel of a bread pudding. Probably. You don't eat bread pudding. There's kind of a caramel sheen with a light crunch on top. Probably be pretty good with some unsweetened whipped cream.
Offer some to others. Eat some for breakfast, and then some for tea.
Get a stomach ache.