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Created by Chef Thomas
A late September tart of small purple damsons in buttery shortcrust, their sharpness softened by sugar and slow heat, served warm with cold cream pooling alongside.
Damsons arrive when the evenings have started to draw in and the kitchen wants the oven on again. They're small, oval, the colour of a bruise, and so tart on their own that you'd never want to eat one raw. But put them in a tart case with sugar and a hot oven and they become something else entirely: dark, glossy, almost winey, the kind of fruit that makes you understand why people used to walk miles along hedgerows to fill a basket.
The name comes from Damascus, which is a long way from a damp lane in late September, but the fruit has been British for so long it might as well be native. They turn up in farmers' markets for a few short weeks, and if you're lucky you know someone with a tree who has more than they can use. Take the offer. Damsons don't keep, and they're worth the small inconvenience of stones.
This is a tart that asks very little. Shortcrust pastry, fruit, sugar, a hot oven. The damsons do most of the work themselves, collapsing into a deep purple jam that stains the pastry and pools at the edges. A handful of ground almonds in the base soaks up the worst of the juices and stops things going soggy. Otherwise, you stay out of the way.
I wrote it down in the notebook one autumn, after a long walk and a bag of foraged damsons that took an hour to pick over. "Damson tart. Sunday. Cream. Worth it." That's all the recipe really needs.
Quantity
200g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
100g
cubed
Quantity
50g
Quantity
1
Quantity
2-3 tablespoons
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
700g
washed, stones left in
Quantity
150g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
half
zested
Quantity
1 tablespoon
for the top
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flourplus extra for dusting | 200g |
| cold unsalted buttercubed | 100g |
| icing sugar | 50g |
| large egg yolk | 1 |
| cold water | 2-3 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| ripe damsonswashed, stones left in | 700g |
| golden caster sugar | 150g |
| ground almonds | 1 tablespoon |
| cornflour | 1 teaspoon |
| lemonzested | half |
| demerara sugarfor the top | 1 tablespoon |
| double cream or thick yoghurt (optional) | to serve |
Tip the flour, icing sugar, and salt into a bowl. Add the cold butter and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture looks like coarse breadcrumbs with a few larger flecks of butter still showing. Don't be too thorough. Those flecks of butter are what make the pastry short. Add the egg yolk and a tablespoon of cold water, then bring it together with a knife, adding the rest of the water only if you need it. The dough should hold together when pressed but not feel sticky. Flatten into a disc, wrap, and chill for at least thirty minutes.
Tip the damsons into a bowl and look them over. Pick out any leaves or stalks. You can leave the stones in or take them out, and there are arguments for both. Stones in is faster and the fruit holds its shape better, but everyone at the table needs to know. Stones out is more work and the fruit collapses a bit, but it's friendlier to eat. I usually leave them in. Toss the damsons with the caster sugar, ground almonds, cornflour, and lemon zest. Let them sit for ten minutes. The sugar will start to draw out the juices.
Heat the oven to 190C/170C fan. Roll the chilled pastry out on a lightly floured surface to about three millimetres thick, turning it a quarter turn every few rolls so it doesn't stick. Lift it carefully into a 23cm tart tin with a removable base, pressing it gently into the corners. Trim the edges, leaving a small overhang to allow for shrinkage. Prick the base lightly with a fork and chill for another ten minutes. This second chill matters.
Line the chilled pastry with baking parchment and fill with baking beans or dried pulses. Bake for fifteen minutes, then lift out the parchment and beans and bake for another five minutes until the base looks dry and pale gold. This stops the pastry going soggy when the wet fruit goes in. Trim the overhang now while the pastry is still warm and cooperative.
Tip the damsons and all their juices into the warm tart case, spreading them out so the fruit sits in a single generous layer. Scatter the demerara sugar over the top. Bake for twenty-five to thirty minutes, until the pastry edges are deep gold and the damsons have collapsed into a glossy, bubbling, dark purple mess. The juices should be thick and slightly syrupy, not watery. Trust your nose. When the kitchen smells like hot fruit and butter, you're nearly there.
Let the tart cool in the tin for at least twenty minutes. The juices need time to set, and a hot damson straight from the oven will take the roof of your mouth off. Serve warm rather than hot, with cold double cream poured from a jug, or thick yoghurt if that's what you've got. Don't forget to warn anyone eating about the stones.
1 serving (about 155g)
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