Onion Tartlets en place

Generally speaking, when dinner guests arrive at the little red house, the garlic has been chopped, the lemons have been squeezed, the arugula has been soaked, the wine has been corked, and, as the case may be, the dough has successfully completed its first rise. Having all this done in advance makes for less frantic entertaining, but I like having everything washed, measured, chopped, and lined up in little dishes on my counter, period. This is, as the French might put it, mise en place for the sake of mise en place. There is a certain joy to be found in being alone with a sharp knife, a cutting board, and a pile of vegetables -- a quiet, slice, slice, kind of joy, a white ramekin filled with slivered scallions kind of joy. Well, the mise en place was not en place when the guests arrived, nor even after the first round of drinks were drunk. My onions weren't carmelizing. My tart dough sat un-kneadable as a brick on the counter. The oven in my miniscule kitchen was smoking like the devil.

And, as if some strange pathetic fallacy were at work, there were relatives in the emergency room, on the phone, and waiting patiently in the dining room.

I over-toasted the pine nuts, and under-seasoned the onions. I tossed the ruined dough into the trash where it landed with a thud. It was getting hot in the kitchen. But I didn't break out into a full blown sweat until I reached for the flour canister. Not enough flour. A desperate search in the freezer turned up no flour, but it did turn up some cornmeal. Cornmeal onion tartlets, it would be. A few reassuring calls from my family and a cold beer later, things were looking almost en place. The cornmeal dough was puffing up, the onions were starting to color, and I was chopping my way through a pile of olives.

By the end of the evening, the smoking hot kitchen had become a distant memory, dog breeds had been discussed, cornmeal tartlets had been praised, Spanish had been spoken, Father's day plans had been arranged, one sister had been startled by a wild-eyed rabbit, the other sister had benefited from some very good pain killers, and, despite the fact that we are approaching mid-June, I had received several lovely Christmas gifts: two new cookbooks and some shiny new knives. I foresee some zen-like mise en place-ing in the near future.

Onion Tartlets
The toppings on these tartlets are similar to the Nicoise pissaladiere. This evening, I was obliged to omit a certain flat fish with eyes, but it was not terribly missed.
From Williams and Sonoma, Hors d'Oeuvres. Serves 4-6.

tartlet dough: recipe to follow
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup water
1/2 teaspoon sugar
salt and fresh ground pepper
1 pound yellow onions, thinly sliced and cut into slivers
15 black olives, pitted and slivered
1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees F.
2. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out tartlet dough to 1/4 inch thickness. With a round biscuit or cookie cutter, cut out as many rounds as you can. Roll these rounds out again with a rolling pin until they are quite thin. Lay rounds on a nonstick baking sheet.
4. In a pan over medium-high heat, combine oil and water. Add sugar, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil and add the onions. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and cook, stirring every now and then, until the onions are golden and the water has evaporated, 30-35 minutes. Remove from heat. Add olives and pine nuts to onions and mix well.
5. Divide filling evenly among dough rounds. Transfer the baking sheets to the oven and bake until the filling and the edges of the pastry are golden, about 15 minutes. Season with some salt and pepper, if you like. Serve warm or room temperature.


Cornmeal Tartlet Dough
1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast
3/4 cup warm water
pinch of sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup all-purpose flour (the amount I happened to have)
1 cup cornmeal


1. Stir together yeast, water, and sugar in a large bowl, and let stand about five minutes. Stir in salt, flour, cornmeal, and oil until combined.
2. Turn out dough onto a slightly floured surface, and knead with floured hands until smooth, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a large, oiled bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Let stand in warm spot for about 20 minutes.


Arugula and Frisee Salad with Fried Shallots and Prunes
From Gourmet magazine, on epicurious.com. Serves 4.

1 cup olive oil
about 1 1/2 cups thinly sliced shallots
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground pepper
1/2 cup packed pitted prunes. finely chopped
1-2 heads frisee
couple of bunches of arugula (I used escarole, but I think arugula would have been better)

1. Heat oil in a heavy saucepan over moderate heat until hot but not smoking. Fry shallots, stirring frequently, until they are golden brown, 4-6 minutes. Transfer browned shallots with a slotted spoon to paper towels to drain. They will become crisper as they cool. Transfer 4 tablespoons shallot oil from pan to a cup for dressing.
2. Whisk together lemon juice, salt, and pepper in a large bowl, then add shallot oil in a slow stream, whisking until combined. Add prunes, arugula, frisee, and salt to taste. Toss well to coat. Sprinkle fried shallots on top.