Rhubarb and Custard Tart

Maybe(?!) I'm weird, but when I see the words 'rhubarb custard pie', my brain wants to put an 'and' between the rhubarb and the custard. Because I've never been fond of a pie that looks like it's pink celery with eggs broken into it and baked. Bleh. Yes, once you get past that, it can be tasty, but personally I want a distinct creamy custard component, and a distinct tangy rhubarb component. And I want to get rid of the celery look of the rhubarb.

I had a sack full of red rhubarb from my parents-in-law I had cooked down to a puree (about an hour or so). We've been steadily uprooting the booger-green rhubarb in our patch and replacing it with this nice red stuff, so we can grow our own. It looked like pink applesauce, and I added just enough sugar to take the astringent bite out of it.

I was tempted to add strawberries to it. I really was. I know strawberry and rhubarb go well together, and they often buddy up in the same dessert, but I wanted to see if I could get something where rhubarb alone was the star. I'm honestly trying to find more ways to like it other than as a secret agent hidden among other fruits.

I had some tart crust dough in the freezer, leftover from another recipe:

1 cup butter, softened
1 cup + 2 tbsp castor sugar
3 eggs
4 ½ cups flour

Method:
Cream butter and sugar together until smooth. Add eggs one at a time followed by flour. Roll the dough into balls and wrap in a cling wrap. Leave to chill in the refrigerator for 2 hours before rolling in a tart pan.

It's a decent, sturdy crust. Almost cookie-like. It did shrink just a tiny bit as it baked. As you can guess, it makes enough for two tarts and then some, (I used my 12-inch pan) plus excess. I baked a 12-inch tart blind 20 minutes at 350 F, using foil and lupini beans as pastry weights. Then roughly another 10 minutes without the weights until golden. In my opinion, this is about all lupini beans are good for. Since buying them and experiencing their ridiculous bitterness years ago, I've learned there is a 'sweet' variety that does not contain so many alkaloid compounds. But I think you still have to soak those for about 92 days or something like that to make them edible. So incredibly not worth it.

I digress...




Here is the
vanilla custard recipe I used, only I substituted a section of split and scraped vanilla bean for the extract. Since I'm lucky enough to have a few of them around, and I like those little black flecks. The recipe didn't say to strain it, but I do every time I make custard. I had to remove the vanilla bean pieces anyway, and it seems there are those few weird little eggy bits lurking in there every time. I don't know if that's a reflection of technique, or just the way custard is.

It looks like it ought to be lemon, but the color comes from the deep golden yolks of some home-raised eggs, courtesy of a generous coworker. I let it cool to about room temperature before placing it in the cooled crust.





























I had enough vanilla custard for the 12-inch tart, plus a little left over. I took about 3 cups of the rhubarb puree, added about 2-3 tablespoons cornstarch while it was cold, and then brought it to a simmer until it thickened. I let that cool to room temp. I did have to add about another quarter cup sugar, because it really was sour. Then I carefully spooned a layer on top of the custard. I chilled the whole thing for about 10 hours before garnishing with a bouquet of violets tied with a strip of rhubarb.



And the finished tart was a little soft and gushy, but otherwise...pretty good. I didn't want to add any more corn starch than necessary to the custard or rhubarb. In a cooking class, we were told by an experienced chef that starch muddies flavors. Maybe adding pectin to the rhubarb and making more of a jam that sets up a little firmer? More tweaks and experimenting may be necessary.