I didn’t plan to become a food writer. My career just sort of evolved when I realized that writing about food let me write about just about anything.
Of course, I still had to come up with recipes. Luckily, I grew up in a family of good cooks. I published their recipes. Then I published recipes created by friends and neighbors.
I also used my imagination. The question, “what if?” sprang into my brain a lot. It still does. What if I wanted to make a salad with rhubarb? What if I wanted to create a sandwich to honor the TV show “I Love Lucy?” What if I wanted to put maple syrup in salad dressing? And so forth.
Many of my recipes are adaptations of other food formulas. This makes perfect sense to me. Cooking is a folk art, like folk music. We put down our own interpretation on familiar melodies. It would be foolish to pretend to be the first person to make an omelet or an apple pie.
In general, when I decide I want to try making a particular dish, I scour through my favorite cookbooks for inspiration. I also consult the internet from time to time, but I find that I have to be careful there to stick to reputable websites to make sure the recipes I’m adapting are reliable.
I compare the recipes I have found to identify key ingredients and techniques they have in common. Then I add my own spin to those ingredients and techniques.
Sometimes, I simply take a recipe I have used before and change the main ingredient. That is the case in both of the seasonal recipes below. The asparagus dish is adapted from my neighbor, Alice Parker Pyle’s recipe for corn fritters. Alice’s technique of folding in egg whites makes the fritters light and fluffy.
I have made asparagus fritters before. They were fine. Nevertheless, I wanted to try putting asparagus in Alice’s recipe. The guests to whom I served the fritters loved them.
The other recipe does the same thing. In fall I often make a simple apple tart with a buttery, slightly sweet crust. When I was working on my rhubarb cookbook, I decided to try substituting rhubarb for the apples. The tart was beautiful … and it provided a great platform for the distinctive flavor of rhubarb.
I know food writers who hone their recipes by testing them many times. I’m not that kind of food writer. If a recipe doesn’t work for me the first time I try it — or possibly the second — I move on. Perhaps this is because I’m a journalist and used to deadlines.
One exception to this rule for me is the rhubarb tart. I warn you: It never comes out quite perfect. No matter how cold I keep the ingredients, the butter in the crust melts and burns a bit. I tried reducing the butter, but its flavor really makes the tart.
So I compromised with a tart that tastes out of this world but can look a little messy when it comes out of the oven. It often recovers its looks as it cools and the little bit of melted butter is reabsorbed by the crust. Sometimes, I have to serve it on its parchment or silicone to keep from making more of a mess, however.
No one complains about the flavor or consistency.
I offer the words above as an inspiration to readers who may feel timid about straying from their tried and true recipes. Making up new recipes is fun. Don’t be afraid to ask yourselves, “What if?”
Note: You have to be careful to keep the butter from melting, but your vigilance pays off.
2 cups finely chopped asparagus
2 eggs
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt (plus more if you like!)
Freshly ground pepper to taste
¼ cup flour
Butter as needed for frying (up to ½ stick — perhaps even a little more)
Pop the asparagus into salted boiling water. Return it to a boil, and cook for 2 minutes. Drain the asparagus.
Separate the eggs. In the bowl of an electric mixer beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. In a medium bowl whisk the egg yolks until they turn a paler yellow. Whisk in the baking powder, the salt, and the pepper. Using a wooden spoon stir in the flour, followed by the asparagus. Gently fold in the egg whites.
Warm a frying pan or griddle, and melt the butter. When it is nice and hot use a cookie scoop or spoon to form the asparagus mixture into little clumps, and fry them on both sides until brown, turning once. The mixture will be free form but delicious.
Serve the fritters immediately by themselves or with sour cream and dill. Serves 4 as a side dish or 8 as an appetizer.
1¼ cups flour
½ cup sugar, divided
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (one stick) cold sweet butter
One egg yolk
Ice water as needed
2 cups chopped rhubarb
1 teaspoon cinnamon
In a cold bowl combine the flour, ¼ cup of the sugar and the salt. Carefully cut in the butter, making sure not to mix it in too finely.
Whisk together the egg yolk and 3 tablespoons of water. Use a fork to stir them into the butter mixture. Add a little more cold water as needed until the dough is capable of forming into a ball (but barely).
Wrap the ball of dough in wax paper and refrigerate it for at least 1 hour.
At the end of the hour, preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a cookie pan that has edges that come up at the sides (so nothing can spill into your oven) with silicone or parchment.
Make the dough into a circle about 9 inches in diameter on the pan. Start with a lightly floured rolling pin to accomplish this; you may want to use your palms a bit as well. Return the rolled-out dough on its pan to the refrigerator while you prepare the rhubarb.
Toss the rhubarb pieces into the cinnamon and remaining sugar. Arrange the tossed pieces on your crust.
Bake until the crust browns nicely (it’s best a little crispy), about 20 to 30 minutes. Your tart may ooze a little butter, which it should reabsorb if you let it cool for a few minutes before serving it. If the tart looks as though it is browning too fast, reduce the heat to 300 degrees.
Dollop a little crème fraiche or ice cream on each small slice of the tart if you wish. It’s pretty great on its own. Serves 8.
To watch Tinky make the rhubarb tart, visit youtu.be/ntTz1tiNAuM.
Tinky Weisblat is the award-winning author of “The Pudding Hollow Cookbook,” “Pulling Taffy,” and “Love, Laughter, and Rhubarb.” Visit her website, TinkyCooks.com.