Mélanger le beurre mou coupé en cubes avec la farine et le sel et sabler à la main ou au robot avec la feuille.
Ajouter le sucre puis le jaune d'œuf.
Si besoin, ajouter de l'eau jusqu'à obtenir une boule lisse non collante.
Laisser 10 min au frigo et étaler dans le moule couvert de papier cuisson
Placer au congélateur 30 min afin que les bords ne retombent pas.
Piquer et précuire la pâte à blanc pendant 10 min à 190°C.
S'il y a un surplus, préparer des motifs de décoration.

Garniture

Étaler la vergeoise sur la tarte précuite.
Mélanger les œufs et la bière et verser sur la tarte
Enfourner 10 min à 210°C
Sortir la tarte et repartir le beurre coupé en petits morceaux.
Poser les décorations en pâte s'il y en a.
Poursuivre la cuisson env. 20 min jusqu'à ce que la tarte soit bien dorée.

Source : trouvé sur Facebook

recette · cuisine · dessert · to-do

November 25, 2024 at 10:42:06 PM EST * · permalink

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/shaare/fUx1Ww

Tarte à la farlouche

Ingrédients

Pour la garniture

250 ml (1 tasse) de mélasse
250 ml (1 tasse) de cassonade
3 œufs battus
250 ml (1 tasse) de lait
30 ml (2 c. à soupe) de beurre
5 ml (1 c. à thé) de jus de citron
30 ml (2 c. à soupe) de fecule de maïs
250 ml (1 tasse) de raisins secs

Pour la pâte brisée

800 ml (3 ¼ tasses) de farine à pâtisserie
5 ml (1 c. à thé) de sel
250 ml (1 tasse) de graisse végétale
125 ml (½ tasse) d'eau glacée

Instructions

Pâte brisée

Tamiser la farine et le sel.
À l'aide d'un couteau enfariné, couper la graisse en petits morceaux; continuer à mélanger tout en coupant (ainsi, la pâte ne deviendra pas élastique).
Arroser d'eau glacée et continuer de couper jusqu'à ce que la pâte "boule bien", sans coller aux doigts.

Assemblage

À feu moyen, faire chauffer la mélasse, la cassonade, les œufs, le lait, le beurre et le jus de citron.
Épaissir avec la fécule de maïs.
Ajouter les raisins.
Vider le tout dans une abaisse non cuite.
Faire cuire au four à 175 °C (350 "F) pendant 35 à 40 minutes.

Source : trouvé sur Facebook

recette · cuisine · dessert · to-do

November 25, 2024 at 7:36:22 PM EST * · permalink

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/shaare/t8NU0w

The Fun Scale

Everybody likes fun. And fun, like anything, can be nuanced; not all fun is created equal.

But it wasn’t until June 2001, while bushwhacking through thickets of Alaskan devil’s club—home to hungry grizzly bears—that I learned of the Fun Scale. Fun, it turns out, is quantifiable.

The bushwhacking came about because my friend Peter had invited me to join him on a low-key outing: a boat ride across a gorgeous bay to climb a small, mellow mountain. It sounded like the perfect finish to my trip, as I’d spent the previous month climbing in the Alaska Range. My climbing partner, Scott, and I had had a terrific trip. Though we were often terrified while actually climbing, we loved it later.

I tried to keep up with Peter as branches whacked me in the face.

“You know that there are three types of fun,” Peter said, bushwacking onward.

“Hey, bear!” I responded. We were trying to return to his sailboat—home to a cooler of cold beers.

Peter kept going, and described the Fun Scale. Here it is:

Type I Fun

Type 1 fun is enjoyable while it’s happening. Also known as, simply, fun. Good food, 5.8 hand cracks. Sport climbing, powder skiing, margaritas.

Type II Fun

Type 2 fun is miserable while it’s happening, but fun in retrospect. It usually begins with the best intentions, and then things get carried away. Riding your bicycle across the country. Doing an ultramarathon. Working out till you puke, and, usually, ice and alpine climbing. Also surely familiar to mothers, at least during childbirth and the dreaded teenage years.

I remember that very trip to Alaska, just a week before learning about the Fun Scale, when Scott and I climbed Mt. Huntington. Huntington might be the most beautiful mountain in the Alaska Range, but the final thousand feet was horrifying—steep sugar snow that collapsed beneath our feet as we battled upward, unable to down-climb, and unable to find protection or anchors. On the summit, with the immaculate expanse of the range unfolding in every direction, Scott turned to me and said, in complete seriousness, “I want my mom so bad right now.”

By the time we reached Talkeetna his tune changed: “Ya know, that wasn’t so bad. What should we try next year?”

Type III Fun

Type 3 fun is not fun at all. Not even in retrospect. Afterward, you think, “What in the hell was I doing? If I ever come up with another idea that stupid, somebody slap some sense into me.” Many alpine climbs. Failed relationships that lacked Type I fun. Offwidths. Writing a book.

Into which category a given experience falls, of course, is highly subjective and highly subject to shifts (particularly from III to II) born of the rosy reflections afforded us by the passage of time.

Which is probably a good thing. After all, as alpinists and mothers both know: It doesn’t have to be “fun” to be fun.

pensée

November 16, 2024 at 5:33:13 PM EST * · permalink

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https://www.rei.com/blog/climb/fun-scale