I had planned to write the recipe for my grandmother’s pink tart for several weeks. The publishing schedule of our Light and Tasty section had planned for today a topic that was evocative for me: “a memory recipe in a light version.” A topic for which I had the perfect recipe, there was no doubt in my mind, the recipe was there waiting for us.

I had recovered the original recipe for this pink tart from my grandmother more or less a year ago, after having regretted for years not asking her in time when I still could. It’s true that certain details are always realized too late, unfortunately.

I made it, following it to the letter, to give it to my brother for his birthday.

Memory recipes are perfect for special occasions, and this pink tart is one of the memories both my brother and I have of grandma Francesca. Throughout our half-century of life, grandma Francesca has always been the only keeper and maker of this tart, which was unique to us because it was pink, and also because instead of jam it had something delicious, which here in our area is called “biuda.”

Biuda is a dialectical definition that stands for: “filling for tarts made with a layer of chopped almonds and honey covered with meringue.” I don’t know if the term biuda exists in other regions, but I believe that in any case, it now belongs only to the language of grandmothers, and mine. Mine, not for exotic reasons but due to simple age-related (or let’s say historical) reasons, as I belong to the middle generation, the one between the existence and disappearance of dialect.

Having made and tasted grandma Francesca’s pink tart, a flaw emerged: it was terribly sweet. 🤭 We were all surprised, all of us saying to each other, oh, how sweet is this tart! As children, we never noticed!

Yes, I have also confirmed it on other occasions: compared to our current habits, grandma’s desserts always had much more sugar, much more butter, and even more eggs, it’s a fact.

And so, a couple of weeks after my brother’s birthday, I immediately tried to remake the pink tart in a lighter version. A version that looked good on the breakfast table on Easter morning, and which we then adopted as the new release of grandma’s tart, still excellent but a bit lighter, and especially with a less sweet biuda.

It’s the perfect recipe for today. 💛

Epilogue:

If this memory recipe in a light version had been scheduled earlier, even just ten days ago instead of today, the introduction to the recipe would have ended here, that is, there, three lines ago.

But today I can’t mention my grandmother Francesca, born in 1916, without also mentioning my mother-in-law, who was almost her contemporary being born in 1922. She passed away, I dare say suddenly, a week ago, leaving me in despair. Even with her hundred years, even with her illness, even with the pain and effort it was to care for her, even knowing the time left to her couldn’t be infinite, yet I didn’t expect it, not now. I was sure, for many reasons, that things would go differently, later, maybe a year, a few months, a few weeks but not now, but I was wrong. It’s true that only a week has passed, but I’m struggling quite a bit to swim in the sea I find myself in now.

I would have many things, with respect to memory foods, to tell about my mother-in-law. And many I would have to tell about the differences, in background, tastes, approach to cooking, culinary attitudes, between my grandmother Francesca, who for many years was a cook, and my mother-in-law, who instead, and contrary to her generation, hated cooking. Yes, she was really bad at it. 🤭 Yes, I will calmly gather my thoughts and write a recipe dedicated to her, to Leda. 🌼

There are other memory recipes on this blog, here are the links below. In three recipes grandma Francesca is mentioned, in two it’s Leda. Enjoy reading. And enjoy the pink tart, everyone. 🌸

Difficulty: Easy
Cost: Economical
Rest time: 30 Minutes
Preparation time: 15 Minutes
Portions: 8
Cooking methods: Oven
Cuisine: Regional Italian
Seasonality: All seasons

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 egg (whole)
1 egg yolk
5 tbsp butter
1/3 cup sugar
1 oz Alchermes
1 tsp baking powder
1 egg white (leftover from the dough)
2 tbsp sugar (powdered sugar is also fine)
2 1/2 oz almonds
2 tbsp honey (but one might be enough)

Tools

Bowl
Blender
Tart Pan

Steps

Prepare the shortcrust pastry in the usual way with soft butter, a whole egg, and a yolk, adding Alchermes in the well. For more details on making shortcrust pastry, I refer you to the recipe of my classic shortcrust.
Once the dough is prepared and after about half an hour of rest in the fridge, roll out two-thirds of the pastry to obtain a paste disk suitable for a tart pan.
👉 I used both a 9-inch and a 10-inch pan: with the larger pan, you need to roll the base a bit thinner, but if you want, just reduce the number of strips to save some dough for the base.
Place the pastry base on a baking tray lined with parchment paper.
Chop the almonds with a knife.
Spread a couple of tablespoons of honey on the pastry, then distribute the almond granules on top.
Whisk the egg white until stiff, sweetened with sugar. It doesn’t need to be perfectly stiff, it can remain a bit soft.
Gently spread the egg white over the almond granules.
At this point, roll out the remaining shortcrust pastry with a rolling pin and cut strips using a wheel.
Place the strips gently over the egg white to create the traditional lattice.
Bake the tart in the oven at 340°F for about 15 minutes, paying attention to the color of the meringue.
👉 From personal experience, it’s best not to get distracted because the meringue can quickly go from perfectly cooked to too brown 😉
Here are two examples of baking (the second a bit too much):
With baking, the bright pink of the raw pastry becomes a softer pink, and even though this tart of mine is normally sweet instead of overly sweet, it is exactly the same color as my grandma’s tart. Which to me will always and forever be her tart.