Tarte Tatin could be described as an upside-down apple pie, but that would be selling it short. Yes, it is an apple filling cooked with a crust on top, but it is so much more.

The apples are first pan-cooked in a butter-sugar caramel. Then a buttery crust is placed over the apples, and the whole deal is transferred to the oven.

When the finished tart is flipped, you have a perfectly crisp (never soggy!) crust, topped with soft apples bathed in caramel and their own sweet juices. It is heavenly.

Tarte Tatin is a french classic, with a bit of a mysterious history. We know that a mademoiselle Tatin discovered it either by delicious accident, or by delicious shortcut. No one knows which.

But the delicious part is certain.

See these gorgeous little apples? I bought them at the farmer’s market last weekend. I haven’t any idea what kind they are, they were just so pretty and… little.

I love them.

I did ask the farmer if they were pie-appropriate. He said yes. And that they taste like green Jolly Ranchers. SOLD!

To make a Tarte Tatin, first you make the pastry. I used an all-butter crust.

Here are my pastry making tips:

Cut the cold butter into the flour mixture until it is in pieces about the size of split peas (1). Then sprinkle with cold water and gently toss until it starts to stick together (2). It will still be loose, but when you pinch a bit together it should hold (3). You don’t want to handle the dough very much or your crust will be tough.

Dump the dough onto a stretch of plastic wrap on the counter. Use the plastic wrap to gather the shaggy dough and press it together into a disc. Wrap it tightly and chill for at least half an hour. This part is very important. The dough must relax in the fridge so that a) it is easier to roll out b) it stays cold enough for the butter to maintain its separate identity in the dough, providing the crust that lovely flaky texture and c) it won’t shrink in the oven.

While it’s chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool in the fridge, you can do the peeling, chopping and caramelized apple-making.

To caramelize the apples, you melt butter in a pan and sprinkle it with sugar. You make a pretty pattern over top with the apples, then you set the pan over high heat till everything turns lovely golden brown and bubbly. You may want to set a larger pan beside the stove, and fill it with ice and water. That way, if your caramel starts to darken angrily, you can halt the process at once by putting the base of the pan in the ice bath.

Then you roll out your crust, lay it on top, and WOOP! the whole thing goes straight into the hot oven.

When you flip it onto a plate, wear oven mitts for heaven’s sake. Plate on top, and one smooth flip. Put the plate down on the counter with the pan still on top, and knock on the pan a few times before lifting it off. Inevitably some apples will cling on for dear life. Just stab them with a fork and replace them on the crust where they belong.

Serve this baby hot. It is delicious with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Okay, so the calendar might say it is fall, but I’m going to retain my death grip on summer and continue enjoying the late summer bounty while others move on to pumpkin-y things and slow braises. I did warn you that I was planning to obsessively hoard all stone fruit till they rot off the tree, did I not? And even the rotting ones… I’m sure there’s still good bits…

I know. Obsession is unhealthy. Which is why I probably shouldn’t share that I was actually stomach-flippingly nervous about going to the farmer’s market yesterday.

What if there are no more peaches? What if they are gone? What if this is my last 2011 experience with the fruit that tastes like sunshine?

Sigh. I’m sure in a week I will happily don a scarf and hop onto the pumpkin-and-slow-braises wagon.

But for now, I am going to put peach pie in your face and pretend it is still beach season, mmkay?

When making peach pie, you’re supposed to drop scored peaches in boiling water to facilitate removing their skin. If you are super speedy and efficient with a paring knife, you can skip this. I do.

The filling is not to sweet, and lightly spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. Nutmeg and peaches are delicious together.

I always toss my fruit with flour. Many recipes call for potato starch, rice flour, tapioca starch, arrowroot, yada yada yada, but my mama always used flour, and her pies were always delicious.

Psst… I made this pie plate… isn’t she pretty?

I have been experimenting with my favourite pie crust recipe. It originally called for half butter and half shortening. But I try to avoid chemically rearranged food-like substances such as:

“FULLY HYDROGENATED PALM OIL, PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED PALM AND SOYBEAN OILS, MONO AND DIGLYCERIDES, TBHQ AND CITRIC ACID”.

Yuck.

I’d rather use the fat of a pig. Uh huh, lard. Like my grandma did.

The reason for using butter and lard (or… shortening… ick) is to produce a crust that is both flavourful and flaky (butter) and tender (lard). If you use just butter, your crust will be utterly delicious, but will have a tendency toward a shattering texture. Fine by me, but not usually the winner of the town pie contest.

Anyway, this is the third time I’ve played with the lard-butter combo, and you know what? I am decidedly back in the all butter camp. You just can’t beat the flavour.

My new pie crust shield squashed my pretty fluting. Ah well.

How do you make your pie crust? Do you use flour, or another starch to thicken your pie filling?

I took Oliver to the groomer this weekend for a 7 am appointment on a Saturday morning.

He has never been groomed, EVER. In his four years of life. So why I felt immediate attention to his hairdo was so urgent that 7 am seemed reasonable…

The grooming lady was very pleasant. She calls herself “Auntie Sue”. She tried unsuccessfully to win his affection by feeding him those weird cracker sticks dipped in a substance that mimicks cheese.

You know, the rectangle plastic snack thingy with two compartments, one for sticks, one for cheese goop? You peel back the plastic and dip the sticks in the goop? Ick.

She said that it would take an hour if things go well. Two if he struggles. We were going on three when I started to sweat just a little.

My friend suggested maybe they were just making him “extra handsome”.

I had my money on him coming out looking exactly as scruffy as he went in, but with crazy, bulging eyes and blood on his nails from his ravaging of Auntie Sue.

I really wouldn’t blame him if he’d roughed her up a bit just for the edible cheese-like product…

3 1/2 hours later, they called and said he was ready! And it had gone…. smoothly? Huh? Were they talking about MY dog?

Frankly, I think they lied. But regardless, they smoothed out his wildly under-disciplined coat, and even removed every last dreadlock from his furry butt.

Like Oliver, this cake is a bit rumpled, but completely loveable.

I am obsessed with wild blueberries. Hence the extra suitcase and yada yada yada.

I wanted to bake them into something special – you know, something slightly more dressed up than pancakes or muffins – while still letting the blueberries the show.

Hello buttermilk cake.

While we are on the topic of obsessions, I am also obsessed with buttermilk. It makes for the moistest crumb in any cake, waffle or muffin you’ll ever meet.

Contrary to what the name would have you believe, it is actually low fat. In yesteryear it was a by-product of butter making (the liquid that was left once the cream was churned). Now it is made commercially using bacterial cultures, similarly to the making of yogurt.

It is thick and tangy and perfect. I use it in savoury applications as well, to add richness and acidity to soups, sauces, and my favourite – homemade macaroni and cheese.

This basic buttermilk cake recipe is one of my all time favourites, one that I tinker with often. It was previously incarnated here as Chai Spiced Apple Cake. It is light-textured, moist, and richly buttery.

Do follow the instructions, with regards to the creaming and the addition of dry and wet ingredients alternatively. This ensures enough air is incorporated to give rise to the incredible fluffy end result you so desire.

Careful with the blueberries – folding in is key, so you don’t squish out all the air bubbles you so lovingly created.

Allow the cake to cool completely before you attempt to flip and release it. If you don’t, you will have a mess on your hands. A delicious mess. But a mess, nonetheless.

Serve with a pillow of softly whipped cream.

S’mores to me are the epitome of all that is delicious in summer and in childhood.

A beautifully roasted marshmallow – evenly golden, slightly charred, perfectly puffy, and ooey gooey in the center – smooshed stickily between two graham crackers with a generous slab of milk chocolate. It’s the best part of any campfire.

S’mores pie embodies this summer treat in a slightly more sophisticated way, and without the need for open flames. It consists of a graham cracker crust, filled with a luscious chocolate cream, and topped with a marshmallow-y meringue. I’ve got your attention, haven’t I?

Here’s what to do.

First you make the graham cracker crust…

…then you pour some hot cream over chunks of chocolate, and whisk in an egg yolk.

You pour the chocolate cream into the graham cracker crust…. and bake it till set…

…then you top it lavishly with mounds of sticky meringue…

… and bake it again….

… et voila!

Marbled lemon cheesecake just became my new favourite thing. Layers of cheesecake batter and lemon curd are swirled together to create a gorgeous marbled effect, with pockets of tangy lemon curd throughout.

Lemon curd alone makes me giddy. The bright flavour, that rich creaminess, the tang, the sweetness, that beautiful pale lemon colour…

It is delicious on scones, in pies, in yogurt, on ice cream, with pound cake, on pavlova, licked off your finger…

it should really come as no surprise that it found an incredible alliance in cheesecake.

Lemon curd is very simple to make – lemon zest and juice whisked with sugar and egg yolks over low heat till thickened. That’s all. It has the consistency of custard when it’s done. It should coat the back of a spoon, and you should be able to make a trail with your finger. If the trail immediately fills back in, it’s not ready yet.

Anything thickened with eggs may curdle if cooked over too high heat, or if cooked too long. And I find people generally don’t enjoy scrambled eggs in their lemon curd. Thankfully, all you need is a fine mesh seive to rescue a curdled curd. Just force the it through the seive with a wooden spoon, and you’ll have a smooth custard.

This recipe uses whole eggs instead of just the yolks. I was skeptical. I hesitated. I almost used another recipe. But it was perfect!

Start by making the lemon curd so that it has time to chill in the fridge while you bake the crust and make the cheesecake batter. I believe cooling the curd completely had an important part in keeping the curd distinct in the finished cheesecake.

It took an outstanding amount of willpower to not eat this by the spoonful before it was baked.

Homemade hot fudge sauce takes ice cream, brownies, or your favourite spoon to a whole new level of deliciousness.

Warm and gooey.

The best possible way chocolate can behave.

This particular recipe is a favourite. One that my ten-year-old self wrote carefully on an index card in her neatest handwriting. The hearts dotting the i’s must have only started when I turned eleven.

It has been made so often, and is so very loved, that I’m shocked it has not yet made an appearance.

Many hot fudge recipes call for melted chocolate and corn syrup. I find the cocoa-based version has a thicker texture and better flavour.

As it cools, it becomes almost chewy. And you don’t have to worry about tempering chocolate or having it seize. Easy peasy.

Also, you wanna talk about making a killer ice cream cake? Just spread a layer of softened ice cream in the bottom of a springform pan. Freeze. Make cocoa hot fudge sauce, cool slightly, and spread on frozen ice cream layer. Top with crushed chocolate wafers and another layer of softened ice cream, in a complementing flavour. Freeze again.

Or just pour it all over chocolate and bananas.

My recipe is made in the microwave. But you could make it on the stove if you prefer. Either way, watch it closely and stir often. Unless you enjoy scraping chocolate from all your kitchen crevasses. Boiling cream + sugar = sticky volcano.

Speaking of chocolate mess, in this photo I am pouring hot fudge sauce all over the floor.

Oliver was thrilled.