» A profile of guest blogger Irene Tokar from ‘Confessions of a Tart’ at Look and Taste’s Food Tips

Featured Blogger #17 Irene Tokar from ‘Confessions of a Tart’

How long have you been blogging about food for?

I started in February 2008 - whew, I can’t believe that over a year has passed!

Who is your favourite tv chef?

Sadly, I don’t get to watch TV too much these days, so here are three food bloggers who *would* be my favorite TV chefs, if they had their own TV shows: Deb from Smitten Kitchen, Helen from Tartelette and Jen from Use Real Butter. These girls are amazing! Until then, following their blogs is the next best thing.

Describe your blog in 5 words?

Hmm… I’m kind of wordy, so this is really hard. “Demystifying the kitchen”? Or maybe “fun food anyone can make”? If I really had to choose, though, I suppose it would have to be “happiness through creating for others” because my inspiration for getting into the kitchen is my family and friends’ love of food and the way it brings us together.

If you could only have one more meal what would it be?

I think I would have to have a really large lobster, with lots of garlicky, lemony butter and curried rice. And a creamy Tiramisu, drowned in espresso and liquour, for dessert. Or maybe a croissant with Nutella. I can have dessert, right?

First special food experience memory?

When I was little, my cousins had a small summer house in the country with bushes and bushes of sweet blackberries and a huge, fluffy cat. Some of my happiest memories are reading a pile of books in the shade of their porch, a bowl of blackberries and a cat nestled close to me. Many of my childhood books have blackberry juice stains all over the pages, and I still love to curl up on the couch with a book and some berries.

Strawberry Frangelico Tart

One of my favorite places in the world is Italy. When I was nine and my parents were making the staggering move from Russia to the United States, with two children and elderly parents in tow, we had to stay in Italy for six months to wait for our visa. At first, with the help of an American Jewish organization, we were housed in an old gray villa, where the paths crunched with gravel and the tall windows let in the cold spring wind. Eventually, though, we found a little house all of our own, in a town called Nettuno - a little seaside retreat an hour south of Rome. Nettuno was heaven for us kids. While our parents worked, we ran around the neighborhood, peering (discreetly, of course) into windows of strange shops, smelling the wonderful ciabatta bread which had a hard, crackly crust and soft insides. We watched the procession of colorful characters on the boardwalk and there always seemed to be something going on, music playing just around the corner and red, green, blue confetti flying through the air. That’s how I remember Italy during that time, a whirl of confetti and the feel of warm bread breaking beneath my fingers.

Our neighbors - an Italian family - had a house which seemed to us (coming from a tiny apartment) the height of luxury. There were two little girls, too - Valentina and Federica. Valentina was the oldest - nine, just like me, and despite me not speaking any Italian and her not speaking any Russian, and neither of us really speaking more than four words of English, we got on swimmingly, and not a few months passed before we were tyrannizing our younger sisters and deciding matters of national importance, like who would play with which doll. Their parents made us our first ever pizza - a rectangular one, of course, with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil layered on the thin crust, and my grandmother made them a cake that said ‘grazie.’ Their house was always full of people - friends, cousins, neighbors - and I think they didn’t mind the addition of two timid girls who probably did unspeakable horrors to the beautiful Italian language. Whenever I get sad or lonely, I think about them and those beautiful months playing in the sunshine in Nettuno and drawing pictures that said ‘ciao’ when we only meant to say ‘until we meet again.’

This strawberry tart with Frangelico somehow makes me feel closer to that time and I wanted to share it with you. It’s also full of color and fragrance and uses two of my favorite Italian ingredients, mascarpone cheese and Frangelico (and, well, Nutella isn’t so bad either). At a time when rain beats against my window, I want to wrap myself in my memories like in a warm blanket and bring back the smells of Italy.

Strawberry Frangelico Tart

One fully baked sweet tart shell

Filling:
3/4 cups heavy whipping cream, very cold
1/2 cup mascarpone cheese, softened and at room temperature
2 tablespoons sugar (for lightly sweetened, or more to taste)
1-2 tablespoons Frangelico (Italian hazelnut liquor)
2-3 tablespoons Nutella (OR 2-3 oz chocolate, finely chopped)
1 lb strawberries, hulled and halved (I think sliced in half would be best, though as you can see I tried it with whole strawberries first and then I sliced them thinly)

Bake the crust fully. When you remove the crust from the oven and it is still warm, spread the Nutella or chopped chocolate (whichever one you are using) on the bottom. If you are using chocolate, the chocolate will melt - this is a good thing. Set the crust aside to cool to room temperature.

Next, whip the cream with sugar to soft peaks (there are varying philosophies on how to do this, but I usually start on medium-high speed and once there are some air bubbles, I add the sugar and continue whipping on medium-high). Fold in the Frangelico, one tablespoon at a time, depending on how boozy you want it to be. Add the mascarpone cheese and continue whipping on medium until the mascarpone is incorporated and the cream is thick but not completely stiff.

Spread the cream inside the crust and top with strawberries. I also sprinkled some grated chocolate on top.

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