
Chef Thomas
Bakewell Tart
A proper Bakewell tart with buttery shortcrust, a thick layer of raspberry jam, and almond frangipane baked golden under a scattering of flaked almonds. No icing. No nonsense.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Twelve small shortcrust tarts filled with spoonfuls of whatever jam is in the cupboard, baked until the pastry is pale gold and the fruit bubbles in their centres like tiny stained-glass windows.
There's a particular kind of afternoon that calls for jam tarts. Rain on the window, nothing urgent on the calendar, a few half-finished jars of jam at the back of the cupboard that need using. That's the afternoon. You don't plan for it. It arrives, and you put the kettle on, and you make pastry.
These were the first thing I ever baked. I expect they were the first thing you baked too, or your mother, or someone who taught you. There's a reason they're the recipe handed to small children with floury hands: the dough is forgiving, the cutter is fun, and the moment when the jam goes glossy in the oven feels like a small piece of magic that you made happen yourself. We're only making dinner, or in this case, only making tarts. The pleasure is in the doing.
Use whatever jam you have. That's the whole point. A row of identical raspberry tarts is fine, but a tin with raspberry next to apricot next to blackcurrant next to a single defiant marmalade one is much better. Each tart is its own small surprise. I wrote it down in the notebook once, the day I cleared out the cupboard and made twelve of them in twelve different colours: "Tarts. Tuesday. Rain. Used up the marmalade." That's all it needed.
They're at their best within a few hours of baking, eaten with a cup of tea, ideally given to someone who wasn't expecting them. There are few better feelings than putting a warm plate of small bright tarts in front of someone on an ordinary afternoon.
Quantity
200g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
100g
cubed
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
1
Quantity
2-3 tablespoons
Quantity
about 6 tablespoons
raspberry, strawberry, apricot, blackcurrant, marmalade, lemon curd, whatever you have
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flourplus extra for dusting | 200g |
| cold unsalted buttercubed | 100g |
| caster sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| large egg yolk | 1 |
| very cold water | 2-3 tablespoons |
| mixed jamsraspberry, strawberry, apricot, blackcurrant, marmalade, lemon curd, whatever you have | about 6 tablespoons |
Tip the flour, sugar, and salt into a bowl. Add the cold cubed butter and rub it in with your fingertips, lifting your hands to let air in, until the mixture looks like coarse breadcrumbs with a few larger flecks of butter still visible. Those flecks are good. They make the pastry short.
Stir the egg yolk into two tablespoons of cold water and pour it over the crumbs. Bring the dough together with a knife first, then your hands, just until it forms a rough ball. Add the last spoonful of water only if it needs it. Don't knead. The less you handle it, the shorter it will be. Flatten into a disc, wrap, and rest in the fridge for thirty minutes.
Set the oven to 200C/180C fan. Lightly flour the worktop and roll the pastry out to about three millimetres thick. Don't be precious about it. Use a round cutter slightly larger than the holes in your bun tin, around seven or eight centimetres, and stamp out twelve circles. Re-roll the scraps once if you need to, but only once. Pastry that's been worked too many times turns tough.
Press a pastry circle gently into each hole of a twelve-hole bun tin. They don't need to come right up to the top. Just enough to hold the jam. Prick each base once with a fork.
Spoon about half a teaspoon of jam into each tart. No more. Jam expands and bubbles in the oven, and an overfilled tart is a sticky catastrophe that welds itself to the tin. Mix the jams up. Some raspberry here, some apricot there, a couple of marmalade ones in the middle. The variety is the whole pleasure of it.
Bake for twelve to fifteen minutes. You're looking for pastry that has gone pale gold at the edges and just starting to colour on top, with the jam glossy and bubbling in the centre. Trust your nose. When the kitchen smells of warm butter and hot fruit, they're nearly there.
Take the tin out and leave the tarts where they are for at least ten minutes. The jam is molten and merciless straight from the oven. Once they've settled, lift them out carefully with the tip of a knife and let them finish cooling on a wire rack. Or eat one warm, standing at the counter, while no one is looking.
1 serving (about 37g)
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