The farm neighbour told me of a grand discovery across the road last weekend… blackberries. Something which I have a fond history with in fact. Seems they found a patch back in the brush on their side which means if I don’t already have some hiding on the edges of my own chunk of forest, I soon will when I can get over there to nab a few transplant canes. I’m thrilled to know that our climate supports them in the wild. I was unsure having not seen any roadside since arriving in the east but guessed prospects were good since blueberries and cranberries do so well here. Bramble fruit in general grows most anywhere but cooler fall weather means they ripen slower and sweeter yielding berries that off-season Mexican imports can’t hope to match.
I take particular delight in edibles from the wild that require no human intervention beyond picking. Wild mushrooms that spring up on forest floors, rouge roadside apple trees, berry rows that bears secretly cultivate and market to moose housewives. Whether I’m tapping into some primal caveman urge to gather or just appreciate that nature doesn’t charge sales tax, there’s something special when you walk in from the field with lunch in the curl of your shirt tails.
My blackberry skills were honed to a fine point out west where blackberries grow any place the seeds land – including a giant stand in my own back yard. In optimal climates they’re even considered invasive weeds that can overtake fence rows and roadsides in just a season or two. The only garden tending required is a machete to hack them back from time to time and a few ‘reserved’ signs to fend off two-legged blackberry interlopers. I can’t tell you how many times I’d come home with small families leisurely picking away in my backyard oblivious that they were, in fact, standing in my backyard. Of course I’d put the kettle on for tea and let them take their fill but visiting picker’s rules applied. Namely one bucket to the house for each taken. Shame I could never get the birds to agree to that proposal.
There are numerous cultivars nowadays, some fruiting on new growth instead of second year canes as many do, some without the thorns that can literally rip through denim, and more still that spread less vigorously from the underground root system that’s nearly impossible to control in wild examples. My loosely groomed backyard versions piled up to more than three meters tall by themselves without any support other than their own canes and spread to fill any width I allowed over the years. So much so that it was traffic on the adjacent driveway that kept them trimmed back as much as my feeble attempts to corral the growth. Clever foragers in blackberry country, including the moose and bears, scope out prospective patches with a keen eye. Not too close to the grime of a major highway, tall enough so the birds leave the lower levels at picking height, plenty of sun exposure for ripeness, and no mother bears in residence nearby (seriously). It’s a fine and occasionally dangerous art this gathering. I have the thorny scars to prove it. In fact I might have to investigate some of those thornless varieties now that I know they’ll grow here.
On yesterday’s run to feed the hibiscus and lilacs I took a spare kilo of tomatoes from the giant box scored on a farm stand visit for my rural neighbour since she’s always so generous with her egg stash. Little did I know there was berry fortune waiting in trade. I love them with nothing more than cream and a spoon but I thought the pint she shared deserved more fancy treatment so here’s one of the most requested tarts I used to make at the peak of season. They’re so easy to knock together I’d make them four at a go and bring extras into the tea house to share with the better customers on the sly from under the counter.
The crust pictured is standard shortbread pastry but a quick graham cracker or ground almond version (sans gluten if you must) is just as easily made by whizzing either with butter and a touch of sugar in the food processor then pressing the crumbs firmly into place. A removable bottom tart pan makes for easy work in all cases and prebaking the shell ensures you don’t have to overcook the custard into a rubbery blob. A touch of cornstarch helps the filling set firm when cooled so pull them from the oven while still a bit wobbly in the centre. If you’re in the mood you can take a torch to the top and add some colour in the crème brûlée vein.
Pull on your heavy canvas gloves and get to picking and baking. Do your best to beat the local wildlife to ripest fruit.
Wild Blackberry & Custard Tart
Citrus brings the sweetness of the custard back to centre here but make sure to take the time to use freshly squeezed. It makes a world of difference.
350 grams (~1 dry pint) blackberries, freshly picked preferred
2 large eggs from happy chickens
350 ml half cream (18%)
100 grams sugar + extra for dusting
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon cornstarch
juice of one lemon or lime (plus zest as desired)
1 prepared and cooled nine-inch tart shell (options below)
Yield: One nine-inch tart
Gently wash and drain the blackberries, especially if from roadside wild sources. Remove any that aren’t firm and intact for making jam or muddled blackberry cocktails.
In a cold two-litre saucepan, whisk the eggs together with the cream, sugar, vanilla, cornstarch, and citrus. Over no more than medium heat*, cook very slowly stirring often until the custard reaches 80C (175F) and thickens slightly, about eight minutes. The custard should coat the back of a spoon but still be pourable. Allow to cool briefly while preheating your oven to 175C (350F).
* If you don’t trust yourself not to scorch the custard, set up a double boiler over a pan of water.
Fill the prebaked tart shell with the custard then nestle the berries into the custard in an even layer. Be as decorative as your patience and artistic skills allow. Dust lightly with sugar if desired and return to the oven for twenty minutes to warm through and set the custard. Broil in the last few minutes if you want more colour to the top of your tart.
Allow to cool completely before serving or chill up to a day ahead. Hide any leftovers from neighbourhood wildlife.
Crust options:
You can of course simply purchase a decent ready-made, all-butter tart shell but avoid those made with hydrogenated fats in the freezer section of your market. They add nothing to the flavour. Most larger stores with in-house bakeries will also sell you a prepared shell from their stocks. Better yet, spend a few minutes and make your own. Here are a couple of quick choices for that option.
Shortbread Tart Shell
125 grams sugar
zest of one lemon or orange (optional)
250 grams all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
150 grams unsalted butter, cut into half-inch cubes and very well chilled
Yield: One 9-inch tart shell
Process the sugar with optional zest in a food processor for one full minute to slightly reduce the granular texture and incorporate the citrus flavour. Add the remaining ingredients and pulse just until a coarse meal texture is achieved. Remove to a mixing bowl and add 3-6 tablespoons of ice cold water one at a time as necessary to form a ball kneading with your hands only enough to bring the dough together. Remove and wrap in plastic to chill for at least fifteen minutes and up to three days in advance. Allow to sit at room temperature for half an hour if rolling after extended chilling.
On a floured surface roll to an eleven-inch round and drape into a nine-inch removable bottom tart pan, pressing the edges firmly to form a rim trimming flush with the top of the pan. Dock the base* with a fork before baking at 175C (350F) for roughly 30 minutes until set but still pale in colour. Cool completely on a wire rack before filling.
* The fancy term for poking a lot of holes to prevent pastry from puffing up too much.
Quick Graham Cracker or Ground Almond Tart Crust
300 grams graham crackers or whole almonds, blanched & peeled
60 grams sugar
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
75 grams unsalted butter, melted
Yield: One 9-inch tart shell
Pulse crackers or almonds together with sugar and salt in a food processor to a fine crumb consistency. Add the butter and pulse just until combined to a sandy consistency. Press three-quarters of the mix very firmly into the base of a nine-inch tart pan using the bottom of a sturdy measuring cup or similar to tamp an even layer. Spread the remainder around the edges and form a rim with similar pressure. Bake at 175C (350F) until lightly browned and aromatic, anywhere from 15-20 minutes. Cool completely before filling.
