Dear Reader, I am old. I went through the whole hippy phase in the 70s. I was a vegetarian for 12 years. I can macramé. To this day, I am an organic, low-carbon-foot-print-except-for-my-whole-diesel-bus-Italian-wine-thang, cook local and when I do eat meat, strive to make sure it came from a local sustainable farm. I wear Birkenstocks. Daily. Somewhere along the way, in the past pushing-60 years, I started to give more respect to the food rules G-d gave Moses.
That is where I am now.
Doesn't mean I don't respect the choices of others. Along with me, the world continues to change. Evolve. We invited my sister and niece, Carla, for Shabbat this evening. We wanted to try to cook a butterflied chicken outside on the grill. I would bake a loaf of Challah and prepare a pretty Caprese Salad... with a sweet peach, cherry and blueberry crostata.





Dessert was a little interesting. I had purchased a huge juicy peach, a few cherries and a basket of blueberries (all organic, of course), and planned to make a crostata. When I learned Carla had gone vegan, I researched a way to make a non-butter pastry crust. (Yes, I know I could have used vegetable shortening, but that product has been banned from this house since the first Clinton administration.) I remembered an article about an olive oil pastry crust a few years ago... but I thought the strong olive flavor would be too intense for the fruit. Problem solved when I found a small bottle of almond oil in our market. I froze a little of the oil overnight and used it in place of cold butter in my regular pastry crust recipe.

I macerated the fruits in my new favorite thing - Whipped Cream Vodka. I could never drink this stuff. It is like syrup. Super sweet and I can imagine much of France is cringing to learn this drink is being produced in their country, but I suppose it would be divine in hot chocolate. In January. At a tailgate party. (Just sayin'.) That said, when I found the half-full bottle in our liquor cabinet - I assume left-over from Julie a winter tailgate party - the wheels started turning in my little brain. Tossing a few tablespoons of the flavored vodka with strawberries for an hour before serving over pound cake brings strawberry shortcake to a new level. So, that is what I did with the fruits tonight, before nestling them into the sticky almond-oil dough. 40 minutes at 375° turned the three fruits into a delight.
Dang, if that pastry crust wasn't tender. Flaky, even. Savory. The fruit was sweet, and the entire tart was surprisingly lovely.

Until my next update, I remain, your Auntie correspondent.
