Friends with Benefits

“Friends with benefits” is the phrase that came to mind after I tasted what is, hands down, one of the best things I have put in my mouth this year. Not those kinds of benefits (mind out of gutter, please). I’m talking culinary benefits, which is nothing to scoff at. Not when a dish like this is in the offing. The benefit I’m talking about is fresh, free sorrel, and a recipe that might make your head spin.

It all started with my friend Knox, who is known for his brilliant ideas (he is Mr. Soup Swap, after all). He’s also the guy who transformed a bare backyard into an amazing landscape of colorful and edible bounty in under a year.

Every time I come to visit I get to poke around the garden and see what’s new. It could be unusual fruit trees (medlars, anyone?) or a box that allows for stacking of potato plants, or a rabbit house with strawberries growing on the roof. Or it could be a clutch of sorrel plants that won’t stop producing.

“Do you want some sorrel?” he asked me as we eyed the plants that were going gangbusters.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you do with it?”

I’ve grown sorrel before, but I wanted to know what Knox does with these tart and lemony greens. The only thing I've ever done is make soup.

“I make the tart.” He said it like I should know about this tart. Like everyone should know about this tart.

I had never heard of a sorrel tart. Have you?

The tart comes from Deborah Madison who got it from Richard Olney, which is some serious culinary pedigree. She says this recipe is the reason she grows sorrel. Knox says it’s the reason he grows sorrel as well. And it’s the reason I’m going to be planting a lot more sorrel in the future.

Knox gave me a bundle of greens and I spirited them home and tried my hand at the tart. It’s a fairly simply thing: eggs, cream, some gruyere cheese. I used a 12 year aged gruyere I’ve recently become hooked on. There’s a red onion as well, sautéed down until it’s soft, and the pile of sorrel leaves.

The sorrel leaves are even better if prepped by a little wee one. The niecelets have discovered the salad spinner and love playing with it. I now have the driest greens in three states.



The thing about sorrel is that you take a nice pile of lovely greens, and once you cook them they turn into something that—to quote Bridget Jones's Diary— looks like “green gunge.” Sorrel melts into a sopping brown/green mess. This, I have discovered, is not such a bad thing—although it's not very pretty to look at. 



As I was cooking the sorrel and the onions, I began to think that the tart might be good with some wisps of prosciutto mixed in (if you’re the sort of person who goes for that). It would bump up the umami flavor. When it was fully baked and served, however, I changed my mind. This tart needs nothing but a fork; it’s deeply savory, in a way not common in vegetarian cooking. The onion and sorrel are a perfect match for the gruyere, the crust is flaky. It was one of the best things I’ve tasted this year, hands down.

My mother was in town that week and she loved it too—loved it. We wrapped the second half of the tart up and took it with us for a weekend on the Olympic Peninsula with the niecelets. Halfway through the weekend, my mother looked at me and said, “Do you think we should bother sharing the tart with the girls? I’m not sure they can really appreciate it.”

What can I tell you—it’s good. So good I’ve been begging sorrel off friends of mine. Shauna and Dan have a big plant about to go to seed and let me gather some leaves. My community garden has some in the shared herb section that I've been eyeing. And my most recent email from Knox told me I could come and get more from his garden (“If you need some stop by and get some...you know where it is!”).

Friends with benefits, indeed.

Not only is he generous, my friend Knox is also quite clever. He sautés the sorrel in butter and then freezes it, in individual plastic bags, so he can have this tart year round. Genius. I plan to do the same. Perhaps you should give it a try as well. Trust me on this one, a friend wouldn't steer you wrong.



SORREL TART
From The Greens Cookbook, by Deborah Madison and Edward Espe Brown
I don’t usually post recipes taken from cookbooks, but as this recipe was given to Deborah Madison by Richard Olney, I figure I’m just passing it along as well. It’s really too good not to share.

Tart Dough

1 cup flour
3/8 tsp salt
4 tbs butter, chilled and cut into chunks
1 1/2 tbs vegetable shortening
2 1/2 to 3 tbs cold water

Put all ingredients except water into the bowl of a food processor and process until the texture is small and crumbly. Drizzle the water in slowly until the dough comes together in a ball. Don’t process more than necessary. You can alternately do this in a bowl with a pastry cutter.

Roll out the dough and press into a 9-inch tart pan or springform cake pan, pricking the bottom with fork tines. Freeze the empty shell. Once fully frozen, bake the shell in a 450° oven until beginning to color.

NOTE: my tart dough shrunk a bit, and bubbled slightly on the bottom despite having been pricked. Next time I’ll try baking with pie weights.

Tart Filling:

4 tbs unsalted butter, divided
1 large red onion, sliced thinly
1/2 tsp salt
6-8 oz sorrel leaves (I used about 7 oz)
2 large eggs
1 cup heavy cream
2 oz gruyere cheese, grated (I use an aged gruyere, 12 years)
Pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375°

Melt 3 tbs butter in a medium pot or pan and add the onions and salt. Sauté about 10-15 minutes, until the onions are soft and stewed. Set aside. In a new pan, melt 1 tbs butter and add sorrel. Cover and cook until the greens have wilted, about 4-5 minutes. Allow both the onions and the sorrel to cool.

Whisk eggs and cream together in a large bowl. Add the sorrel, onion, and half the cheese, stir to mix. Add pepper, as desired.

Scatter the second half of the cheese over the pre-baked tart shell. Pour the filling on top. Bake in the center of the oven until fully set (40-45 mins). The final tart should be well colored. Serve hot or room temperature.