Clementines are known for many things, the most famous of which include cuteness, seedlessness, and easiness to peel (importance descending in that order). I can vouch for the first one, and the first one only. I ate three clementines today, all within about five minutes, and encountered seeds and could not avoid clementine rinds creeping into my fingernails.
What?! Why?! Clementines, whyyyyy have you forsaken me?
Now, how did I get myself into this mess? Where did this all begin?
See this tart? I made it last night. I was going to eat part of it for lunch, and I was going to give some of it to some food-appreciating friends at work. Instead, I left it on my kitchen counter, where Rachel came to the rescue and secured it in the refrigerator (and then texted me, saying that she ate the whole thing). Don’t worry, Rachel is a big, fat liar.
So here I was, lunchless. Swamped with work. Itching to play piano. Naturally, I didn’t resolve any of these issues with fierce logic. I didn’t buy lunch — too expensive. I procrastinated at work — too tempting. I didn’t play piano — too busy playing catch-up from my procrastination. And the entire time, I was wishing (daydreaming?) I could eat my tart. I even considered going home for it. but instead, I rummaged through my purse to find three clementines, for the win.
So I ate them. And pondered methods of overcoming writers’ block. I really have been writing a lot, lately. I was up until 2 AM writing a recap-newsletter for my adult kickball league.
I also need to write a follow-up to this, since Cote d’Ivoire’s election disputes are finally settling.
Not hilarious. But very interesting.
I also wrote this post. You’re reading it right now. You should do what I say, and make this tart — right now. But don’t leave it at home — because your roommate will try to eat it, and you’ll be left lunchless with clementine pectin wedged into your fingernails.
It’s raining. It’s pouring. You know what that means? It means that this California girl needs to be back in bed with a cup of tea and a few episodes of Archer.
One prepared, amazing tart crust.
1 cup parmesan cheese
3/4 cup milk
1 handful of asparagus
WHAT TO DO:
Have your tart crust prepared in advance. Heat your oven to 350 degrees.
Either saute or roast the asparagus with the olive oil, salt, and pepper. I prefer roasting it, but sauteing it is delicious, too. Sauteing is faster — that’s for sure.
In a bowl, lightly beat the eggs with a fork or a whisk. Stir in the milk, then the parmesan cheese. Pour into the tart crust.
Very meticulously arrange your asparagus pieces in your tart. I chose the rectangular tart pan, because it almost looks like a picture frame. But you can decorate your tart however you like.
Sprinkle some salt and pepper, and then bake for 35 to 40 minutes — until the filling is puffy and firm.