You can see the result above.
So what the heck is that papery substance doing around this lovely tart, especially on a cooking blog?
Well, truth be told, I never make my own crusts. I know this is very wrong. Yet in France you can buy perfectly edible pâtes brisées -- much better than their American counterparts -- and I buy them all the time. They look like this when you put them in your quiche dish:
The paper the crusts come rolled up in is called papier de cuisson; think of it as waxed paper without the wax. It's a very practical thing, because your crust never sticks when you use it, and you hardly need to wash the dish afterwards.
So to get back to the tart, I caramelized my onions, which meant almost burning them but not quite -- a delicate operation:
Then I got my Roquefort out of the fridge. Here is the horrible truth. My Roquefort did not look like this; it looked like what you see below, and had been languishing in the fridge for weeks, if not months:
But once I opened it up, it appeared pretty peppy: proof that some things, like wine and expatriates, improve with age:
Taking care not to crumble aluminum foil into my tart, I sprinkled bits of elderly Roquefort over the onions:
I do consider myself a photographer of sorts -- but not the culinary sort.
And that's the way it's going to be on Cuisine Quotidienne in 2008; so if you don't care for that approach, click here.
So back to the tart. I kind of, sort of, used Loulou's recipe, but I make no guarantees about the exact proportion of eggs and various creams that went into it. And I definitely didn't have any Parmesan, so Gruyère had to do. But this is how it looked when it went into the oven:
How delicious do you think that was?
Merci Loulou!
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