The Apricot Frangipane Tart that ruined me for all other summer desserts came out of a paper bag at the Fête de l’Abricot in Roussillon, a tiny ochre-stained village in the Luberon. Late June, almost 35 degrees Celsius, a brass band playing badly two streets over, and a queue of about forty people for one woman’s stand.
The Festival in Roussillon
Her name was Margaux. She was the cousin of my homestay host Sylvie, who had dragged me along that morning saying only, you will queue, you will not complain. I queued. I did not complain.
What Margaux was selling were slabs of warm apricot tart cut from sheet pans the size of car bonnets, the apricot halves glossy and slightly blackened at the tips, the almond cream underneath still trembling. I ate mine standing up against a stone wall that had been baking in the sun all morning. The crust shattered when I bit in. In a good way.
Sylvie watched my face and started laughing. Two days later, on the morning I was leaving for the train back to Marseille, she pulled a paper napkin off the counter, wrote down Margaux’s proportions in pencil, and slid it across the kitchen table. The napkin had a grease ring on it from the night before. I still have it. It lives in the drawer with my passports.
Bringing It Back to a Hot LA Kitchen
I made my first attempt the week I got back, in August, when the Hollywood farmers’ market still had decent stone fruit if you got there before nine. Bergeron apricots are the Provençal classic, and you will not find those in California, but the Blenheims from a stand near the flower vendors are close enough and arguably more fragrant.
The first attempt was a disaster. I used apricots that were too ripe because I thought riper meant better. Wrong. They wept all over the almond cream and turned the bottom of the tart into wet sand. The second attempt I bought fruit that was barely yielding to a thumb press, almost crunchy. Much better.
One more thing nobody tells you. The frangipane puffs up dramatically in the oven. If you fill the shell to the brim, it spills over the rim and welds itself to your tart pan, and you spend twenty minutes swearing at a wire rack. Leave a finger’s width.
A Quick Note on What Frangipane Actually Is
I went down a small rabbit hole on this after Sylvie’s napkin. Frangipane was named in the 17th century after an Italian-born marquis at the French court, a man called Frangipani who made an almond-scented perfume for gloves that the whole of Paris went mad for. The cream itself is French, not Italian, which surprises everyone I tell.
In strict pastry-school French, true frangipane is almond cream mixed with pastry cream. Most home cooks, including Margaux, just make the almond cream and call it frangipane. I do the same. Nobody at a picnic has ever asked me for the technical definition.
It is also not a Bakewell tart. Bakewell has a layer of jam under the almond filling and gets topped with icing or flaked almonds. This one is fresh fruit baked directly into the cream, and the jam comes at the end as a glaze.
What I Used
- 1.25 cups all-purpose flour for the pâte sablée
- 0.33 cup powdered sugar
- 0.25 tsp fine sea salt
- 0.5 cup cold unsalted butter, cubed
- 1 large egg yolk plus 1 tbsp ice water
- 0.5 cup softened unsalted butter for the frangipane
- 0.5 cup granulated sugar
- 1 cup finely ground almond flour
- 2 large eggs at room temperature
- 1 tbsp all-purpose flour
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- 1 tbsp dark rum, or 0.5 tsp almond extract
- 1.5 lb fresh firm-ripe apricots, halved and pitted
- 0.33 cup apricot jam plus 1 tsp water for the nappage
Where Most Home Cooks Lose the Plot
This tart is a slightly stressful puzzle the first time, and a calm Sunday-afternoon project the third time. Most of the mistakes happen in the same three places.
One. The pâte sablée. People overwork it because they want it to look like a smooth ball of dough. Do not. Rub the butter in until it looks like coarse sand with pea-sized lumps still visible, then add the yolk and water and press it together with the heel of your hand only until it just coheres. Flatten, wrap, fridge for an hour minimum. I have left it overnight when I got distracted by a friend calling from Berlin. It was fine.
Two. The frangipane. Cream the butter and sugar properly. Two full minutes in my stand mixer, with the paddle, scraping the bowl twice. Then almond flour, then the eggs one at a time. If you dump both eggs in at once the mixture splits and goes grainy. I learned this on attempt one, in a hot kitchen, with the window open and a neighbour mowing his lawn.
Three. The apricots. Pat them dry on paper towels, cut side down, before you arrange them. Place them cut-side down on the cream, in concentric circles, pressing only enough to anchor them. They sink if you push. They weep if you do not dry them.
The Glaze Is Not Optional
Skipping the apricot nappage is the most common mistake I see in American recipes for this. It is not just for shine. The warm strained jam seals the fruit, stops it drying out as it cools, and gives the tart that quietly luxurious sheen you see in French pâtisserie windows.
Warm the jam with a teaspoon of water, push it through a fine sieve, brush it on the SECOND the tart comes out of the oven while everything is still hot. If you wait, the glaze will sit on the surface in dull patches.
How I Serve It Now
Warm, with crème fraîche from the cheese counter at Cookbook on Vermont. Or cold, the next morning, standing at the counter in a t-shirt while the coffee brews. Cold leftovers, eaten standing up. Better than the original, almost.
I still text Sylvie a photo every August when the first one comes out of the oven. She always replies with the same thing. Pas mal pour une américaine. Not bad for an American. I will take it.
Apricot Frangipane Tart
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Make the pâte sablée. In a medium bowl, whisk together 1.25 cups flour, the powdered sugar, and the salt. Add the cold cubed butter and rub it into the flour with your fingertips until the mixture looks like coarse sand with a few pea-sized pieces of butter still visible.
- Add the egg yolk and 1 tablespoon ice water. Gather the dough quickly with your hands, pressing just until it comes together. Do not knead. Flatten it into a 6-inch disk, wrap tightly, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
- Roll the dough on a lightly floured surface into an 11-inch round about 1/8 inch thick. Drape it over the rolling pin and lift it into a 9-inch fluted tart pan with a removable bottom. Press it gently into the corners and up the sides, then trim the edges flush with the rim. Prick the base all over with a fork and chill while you make the frangipane.
- Preheat the oven to 350 F with a rack in the lower third.
- Make the frangipane. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar on medium speed for 2 minutes until pale and creamy. Add the almond flour and beat 30 seconds more.
- Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping down the bowl. Mix in the 1 tablespoon flour, the vanilla, and the rum until smooth. The frangipane should be soft and spreadable.
- Spread the frangipane evenly across the chilled tart shell, smoothing it level with an offset spatula. It will rise as it bakes, so leave a small gap below the rim of the crust.
- Pat the apricot halves dry with paper towels. Arrange them cut-side down in concentric circles over the frangipane, pressing each one only lightly so the fruit sits on top of the cream rather than sinking in.
- Bake on the lower rack for 35 to 40 minutes, until the frangipane is puffed and deeply golden between the apricots and the crust edge is rich brown. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with foil for the final 10 minutes.
- While the tart bakes, warm the apricot jam with the 1 teaspoon water in a small saucepan over low heat, stirring until fluid. Press through a fine sieve into a clean bowl.
- Transfer the baked tart to a wire rack. Immediately brush the apricots and exposed frangipane generously with the warm nappage to glaze.
- Cool the tart for at least 30 minutes, then carefully unmould by setting the pan on a wide can and letting the outer ring fall away. Slide the tart onto a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature, dusted lightly with powdered sugar if you like.