Main Serving

Mental Meltdown Mushroom Tart

Against all odds, a delicious East-West hybrid

Lisa Rogak

It began as a noble experiment: I decided to pick four different mushrooms — shiitake, cremini, chanterelle, oyster — and four wines that play to each mushroom’s flavor and strengths because they complement the subtle flavors of mushrooms without overpowering them, the way that a full-bodied ripe zinfandel would.  With that in mind I chose a French white, a rosé, and two medium-bodied reds. Next, I planned to combine the ‘shrooms with some onions, sprinkle them with some kicky, unpronounceable East Asian spices, and then spread it all over puff pastry before serving it up to the hungry hordes at my dinner table.

Then I thought twice: After being exposed to heat, fat, and salt, it would be difficult, probably impossible, to tell the difference between the mushroom varieties. That, in fact, is precisely what happened — not a disaster, quite, but not in line with my original intention. What was I thinking?

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by my irrational though process. After all, my relationship with mushrooms has been tainted since childhood. Many an evening, once I heard the buzz-whirr of the electric Waring can opener in my culinarily challenged mother’s 1970s suburban New Jersey kitchen, I would crank up the volume on the stereo to postpone the inevitable: that one of three of her canned go-tos were on the menu.

A silver-clad can of mushy Le Sueur baby peas.

Chef Boyardee Spaghetti.

An off-brand can of sliced mushrooms, Complete with stems and caps.

By themselves, they were bad enough. But there were those times when Mom heard the culinary gods warbling her name, and thus inspired, she decided to go totally Betty Crocker and serve all three at once. Those were the times I would pray for a ravenous dog to sit at my feet.

I could usually find something for the peas to hide under, and managed to choke down the spaghetti. But the mushrooms? Totally inescapable. To make matters worse, she liked to liberally garnish the pasta with the shriveled-up slimy brown congealed bits.

This said, you can at least understand my mushroom fog. To avoid further complications I decided to match my chosen wines with the whole of the dish rather than each fungus. And that’s when a couple of the wines went all shape-shifter on me.

While one might think that a mushroom tart — with a good dose of onions serving as a bed — would be delicate enough to go head to head with a sharp rosé and savory enough to stand up to a robust red cuvée, the truth is that the spice in the recipe emphatically interacted with these wines, which I should have but didn’t see coming. I mean, how much influence can one-quarter teaspoon each of cumin seed and ajwain seed have? I took a whiff before committing. How much damage could it do in the grand scheme of things?

O ye of little faith.

First off, the Bouké Long Island 2010 Rosé. It played quite well with the dish, complementing the savoriness of the mushrooms while amping up the spiciness. At first my guests and I thought the spice came from the food; several sips and bites later, we discovered that an extra spicy finish was delivered by the wine, not the entrée. The Domaine Talmard 2010 Mâcon-Chardonnay held its own at first, but as the meal progressed it was unable to stand up to the savory aspects of the mushrooms.

Next up: the Ecluse Blind Dog Midnight Run Cuvée from Paso Robles , which was heartier than the three other wines on the docket. Loaded with currants and slightly syrupy, it pulled the dish down to make it even more savory, pushing the spice into the background.

Finally, the Maryhill Washington state Sangiovese: it turned out to be the most intriguing of the four because it changed with every sip. The woody aroma was strong, which from a mushroom-pairing standpoint is a good thing. But then it delivered notes of chocolate — no, wait, tobacco — and somewhere in there even a faint bit of melon on the tongue.

Though some might wish for less whiplash in a pairing, given the tart’s source it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Chef Aliya LeeKong has spent the last few years in kitchens in and around New York City — including Per Se and Jean Georges — before she landed at Junoon, a “modern” Indian restaurant where as chef and culinary creative director, she helps develop a menu that incorporates the more unusual South Asian spices into other cuisines.

With this recipe, LeeKong took the traditional French tart known as a pissaladière and replaced the standard anchovies and olives with mushrooms; the caramelized onions give the mushrooms added depth. She adds touch of chili powder, cumin and ajwain seeds (a South Asian spice that’s a member of the parsley family) fora bit of heat and smokiness before layering all atop a sheet of puff pastry, which is baked to a crispy finish.

In the end, the pairing turned out to be a window on how tinkering with one or another spice can alter the total experience of a dish and inspire experimentation.

An intriguing thought. Maybe I should offer a Top Chef challenge to LeeKong to see what she could do with canned peas, boxed spaghetti, and canned ‘shrooms. Mom may never be able to forgive me for dissing her culinary repertoire, but given how the wine played with LeeKong’s tart, even I’d be willing to give her beloved canned trilogy another try.

Mushroom and Ajwain Pissaladière

Serves 6 as an appetizer / Makes about 8 squares for hors d’oeuvres

• 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed according to package directions
• Olive or canola oil
• 3 tbsp. unsalted butter
• 3 cups sliced mixed mushrooms (I used cremini, shiitake, chanterelles, and oysters, but you can use a mix of whatever’s in season)
• ¼ tsp ajwain seeds
• ¼ tsp. cumin seeds
• 2-3 medium-sized Spanish onions, thinly sliced
• ¼ tsp crushed red pepper
• scant ½ tsp. black pepper
• scant ½ tsp. chili powder
• scant ½ tsp. ground cumin
• 1 egg + 1 tbsp. heavy cream
• Fresh thyme leaves
• Salt to taste

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Heat a medium-sized skillet over medium-high heat. Cover bottom of pan with oil and add 1 tablespoon of butter. Once foam has subsided, add mushrooms and toss to coat. Cook for about 2 to 3 minutes until well-browned, season lightly with salt and place in a colander over a bowl to drain excess liquid and oil.

3. Wipe off skillet and set back over medium heat. Add oil again to coat the bottom of the pan and, when oil begins to shimmer, add ajwain and cumin seeds. Fry spices for about a minute being careful not to burn. Turn heat down to medium-low, add 2 tablespoons of butter, onions, crushed red pepper, black pepper, chili powder, and a generous pinch of salt. Cook on low for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring frequently until onions soften and caramelize. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside to cool for about 10 minutes.

4. On a floured surface, roll out the puff pastry to fit the baking sheet; it will shrink a bit as it cooks. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, and prick all over with a fork to prevent it from puffing too much. In a bowl, beat together the egg and heavy cream and brush puff pastry with egg wash. Bake for 10 minutes, and remove from the oven. Let sit for 2 minutes to deflate.

5. Using tongs, spread onion mixture onto pastry being sure to leave an uncovered edge around the outside. Try not to get any excess oil or butter on the pastry. Spread browned mushrooms on top, sprinkle with thyme leaves and bake for another 10-15 minutes until crust is golden brown. Let cool slightly before cutting.

Recipe courtesy Aliya LeeKong.

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