Professor Butter Beard and Vincent van Gogh’s “Pine Trees against a Red Sky”
“The sun itself cannot make the world bright without souls to feel its light.” – Vincent van Gogh
I am a summer solstice baby. I came into the world at four in the morning, just as the first rays of the sun were beginning to lighten the longest day of the year. That may explain my deeply imbedded connection with the dawn. There has never been a need for any type of mechanical morning alarm clock. The first birdsong. The first glimmer of violet sky. The sudden shift in the sleeping pose of the hound at my feet. These beckon me to silence my dreams, grind the dark roasted coffee beans with a few cardamon pods, watch the sunrise on a hike with Nellie and then turn on the oven for the morning bake.
I have always chosen to work for restaurants that allow me to watch the sunrise from the kitchen window with NPR providing the necessary updates and sharing a mug of Joe with the early morning produce purveyors teasing me with samples of their best berries, stone fruits and herbs. By the time the kitchen chefs would arrive, they were greeted with cooling trays of muffins, scones, shortbreads and the first loaves of crackling bread emerging from the oven. Their smiles and hellos would always come after their first bite of chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins or brioche rolls slathered with all my available butter.
Vincent van Gogh’s “Pine Trees against a Red Sky” is my morning in a painting. I know he painted a sunset, but I can easily transpose the time of day and become the lone journeyman as he walks alongside the heavily scented pines whispering “good morning” in the breeze while the orange sun globe rises and colors the sky. I imagine my packs to be full of dew-covered strawberries, fragile raspberries and parchment-wrapped blocks of dark chocolate as I absorb the first morning light and munch on a handful of just-cracked ripe walnuts.
In November of 1889, Vincent wrote to his sister Willemien that he was working on a canvas with “tall, ravaged pines against a red sunset sky.” Despite the mistral, the strong wind that often blows in the winter in Provence, the artist still frequently painted outdoors. He explained to his sister that his intent was to capture the “superb effects of pale citron skies, and desolate pines [that] cast their silhouettes.”
As the letter progressed, all kinds of undefinable thoughts occurred to the artist. “Upon looking at my canvas I told myself, that’s not it.” He wrote how he decided to rework the sky with a green tone. “From a distance it softens the tones by breaking them up.” As I study the painting closer, it becomes clear that these light green stripes absolutely do invigorate the sky. He closed the letter by admitting, “Some of my paintings, when I compare them to others, certainly do bear the trace that it’s a sick man who paints them, and I can assure you that I don’t do it deliberately. But despite myself, my calculations end up at broken tones.”
Vincent’s vision of the glowing red sky inspired me to create this Fresh Apricot Tart as the sun rose on this solstice birthday. I began with a fragrant toasted cornmeal crust, then layered in a still pond of tangerine marmalade. I created my next pigment by grinding together roasted hazelnuts, sugar and Chinese Five-Spice and binding it with farm-fresh eggs. Finally, I painted the ready canvas with ripe apricots in bold Vincent brushstrokes of slices and glazed them with a dusting of sugar before baking them in the heat of the morning oven.
On this birthday, as I walked with Nellie through the whispering pines towards the rising sun, I smiled hearing the artist’s words: “Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”
Fresh Apricot and Hazelnut Frangipane Tart
Crust:
1 cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup coarse ground cornmeal
2 tsp granulated sugar
½ tsp fine sea salt
6 Tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 large egg
1 tsp cold water
Tart:
6 ripe apricots, pitted and sliced
4 Tbsp marmalade (I prefer tangerine)
½ cup roasted hazelnuts
6 Tbsp granulated sugar (4 for the frangipane and 2 to dust the fruit before baking)
1 tsp Chinese Five-Spice
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla paste
2 tsp orange flower water
Dusting of confectionary sugar
1) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
2) For the crust: In a food processor, combine the flour, cornmeal, sugar and salt. Pulse to combine. Add the butter cubes and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Add the egg and tsp cold water and pulse until the dough comes together. Empty onto a lightly floured surface and roll the dough into a 1/8” thick circle. Place in a fluted tart pan and let the excess dough hang over the edges. Place on a baking sheet and lightly press a sheet of aluminum foil against the unbaked shell and bake for 20 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another five until the bottom of the shell is dry and starting to lightly brown. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. At this point you could trim the edges of the shell, if desired.
3) While the shell bakes, pit the apricots and slice into 8-10 slices per apricot. Set aside.
4) As the shell cools, in the food processor, pulse together the hazelnuts, sugar and five-spice into a meal. Add the eggs, vanilla and orange flower water and pulse until the mixture is fully combined.
5) Spread the 4 Tbsp marmalade on the bottom of the shell. Pour in the frangipane mixture and then place the apricot slices over the frangipane in a circular pattern. Dust the apricots with the additional 2 Tbsp sugar and bake for 35 minutes. Turn the oven to broil and bake for an additional five minutes until the edges of the apricots start to slightly blacken.
6) Remove the tart from the oven and let cool on a wire rack. When ready to serve, dust the outer edges of the tart with confectionary sugar.
