Tarte aux courgettes

Provençal zucchini tart with Gruyère and herbes de Provence

Origin: Provence, French Republic

From the journey of Zucchini.

The tarte aux courgettes is a perfect expression of how Provençal cooking domesticates the bounty of the summer garden into something elegant and composed. Provence's tradition of vegetable tarts, le tian, the clafoutis of vegetables, the tarte de légumes, reflects a culinary culture that regards vegetables not as accompaniments but as subjects worthy of the same attention given to meat or fish. The courgette (as the zucchini is known throughout France and Britain, from the diminutive of courge, gourd) is the emblem of the Provençal summer: it grows prolifically in the garrigues garden, arrives at every market stall from July onwards, and appears in dozens of preparations from ratatouille to soupe au pistou. The tarte translates this abundance into a format suitable for a midday lunch at a stone table in the shade of a plane tree: a shortcrust pastry base, the courgettes sliced thin and arranged in concentric overlapping rounds (their alternating dark-green skin and pale interior creating a decorative spiral that is also practical) a filling of eggs, cream, Gruyère, and herbes de Provence that sets around the vegetables into a silky, golden custard. The result is simultaneously rustic and refined: peasant vegetables in a form that any Parisian would be proud to serve. This is exactly the transformation that characterises the best Provençal cooking: the elevation of simple, seasonal ingredients through technique and attention into food that transcends its modest origins.

Ingredients

Pastry

  • 175 g plain flour
  • 90 g cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
  • 1 pinch fine salt
  • 3 tbsp ice-cold water

Filling

  • 500 g courgettes (about 3 medium), sliced into 2mm rounds on a mandoline or with a sharp knife

Custard

  • 3 eggs
  • 150 ml double cream
  • 50 ml whole milk
  • 100 g Gruyère, finely grated
  • 1 tsp herbes de Provence (dried blend)
  • 1 clove garlic, very finely minced
  • 0.75 tsp fine salt
  • 0.25 tsp black pepper
  • 0.25 tsp freshly grated nutmeg

To Finish

  • 1 tbsp olive oil

Method

  1. Make the pastry: rub the cold butter into the flour and salt with your fingertips until the mixture resembles rough breadcrumbs. Add the ice-cold water one tablespoon at a time, pressing the mixture together just until it holds; do not knead. Shape into a disc, wrap in cling film, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
  2. Preheat oven to 190°C. Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface to a circle about 3mm thick and line a 23–25cm tart tin with a removable base. Press gently into the edges. Trim any overhang. Prick the base all over with a fork, line with baking paper and baking beans (or dried rice), and blind-bake for 15 minutes. Remove the paper and beans and bake for a further 5 minutes until the base is lightly golden and set. Allow to cool slightly.
  3. Salt the courgette slices lightly and leave in a colander for 10 minutes. Pat dry with kitchen paper; removing excess moisture prevents the tart from becoming watery.
  4. Whisk together the eggs, cream, milk, three-quarters of the Gruyère, herbes de Provence, garlic, salt, pepper, and nutmeg until well combined.
  5. Pour half the custard into the blind-baked pastry case. Arrange the courgette rounds in tight concentric overlapping circles over the custard, working from the outside in and alternating the direction of each round so the green skin faces alternately up and to the side, creating the classic spiral pattern. Pour the remaining custard over the courgettes so it fills the gaps. Scatter the remaining Gruyère over the surface. Drizzle with olive oil.
  6. Bake at 190°C for 25–30 minutes until the custard is set (a gentle shake should show only a very slight wobble in the centre), the courgettes are tender, and the top is golden. Allow to rest for at least 10 minutes before unmoulding. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Notes

For the most decorative result, use a mixture of green and yellow courgettes, alternating them in the spiral. Herbes de Provence typically contains thyme, rosemary, marjoram, and lavender; the lavender is what makes it distinctively Provençal and slightly floral. If unavailable, substitute a blend of dried thyme and rosemary. This tart travels well and is ideal for picnics.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1975
Drag to explore journey
17 of 17 stops
1975 CE
8000 BCE160018801975
Zucchini

Zucchini

Cucurbita pepo var. cylindrica

VegetablesCucurbitaceae

🌍Origin

Mesoamerican Highlands, Oaxaca & Southern Mexico — c. 8000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The zucchini is, in the strictest sense, a New World plant given an Old World form, and its deep ancestry lies far from the kitchen gardens of Lombardy with which it is now identified. Its wild forebears belong to Cucurbita pepo, a squash first taken into cultivation in the highlands of Mesoamerica around 8000 BCE, amongst the earliest of all the domesticated plants of the Americas. Rind fragments and charred seeds recovered from the dry cave sites of the Oaxaca valley, notably Guilá Naquitz, place squash alongside the bottle gourd at the very beginning of American agriculture, a thousand years and more before maize was tamed. The earliest growers did not prize the plant for its watery flesh, which in the wild forms was thin and bitter, but for its seeds, which are rich in oil and protein and could be dried and stored against the lean season, and for the hard, durable rinds of the mature fruit, which served as bowls, scoops, and containers. Over the following millennia the cultivators of Mesoamerica selected this single, endlessly plastic species into a great range of forms, from sweet autumn pumpkins to acorn and crookneck squashes, and squash took its place as the third member of the Three Sisters, the milpa polyculture in which it was sown together with maize and beans. The arrangement was a masterpiece of agronomic logic: the maize stood tall as a living trellis, the beans climbed it and fixed nitrogen into the soil, and the broad, sprawling leaves of the squash shaded the ground between, suppressing weeds and holding the moisture in the earth. Yet the slender green vegetable we now call zucchini did not exist in the Americas at all. It was bred from C. pepo stock only after the plant crossed the Atlantic, the work of European, and above all Italian, gardeners who selected for a long, thin-skinned, mild-fleshed fruit eaten immature, before the seeds hardened and the rind toughened. So thoroughly was the squash naturalised in its new home that one of its parts was embraced almost at once: the golden blossom, the fiore di zucca, was prized long before the modern fruit was perfected, and within a generation of the squash reaching Italy the flowers were being stuffed with ricotta and anchovy, sheathed in a light batter, and fried in the kitchens of Rome and Naples, in a preparation that has scarcely altered to this day.

Global Voyage

The squash crossed the Atlantic with the first returning ships of the Columbian Exchange, reaching the Iberian Peninsula in the opening decades of the sixteenth century along with maize, beans, tomatoes, and chillies. In Spain its welcome was cool: the Cucurbita pepo squash was grown more as a curiosity, an ornament, or a fodder for livestock than as a dish for the table, and the Spanish, well supplied with their own gourds, were slow to take it into their cooking. The more receptive kitchens lay further east, in the lands of the Ottoman Empire and the eastern Mediterranean, where the summer squash was embraced with an enthusiasm that Iberia never showed. Ottoman cooks took kabak into the great repertoire of dolma and meze, hollowing and stuffing it with spiced rice and herbs, and the cooks of Ottoman Syria and the Levant developed the pale, slender, tender-walled variety they called kousa, the foundation of kousa mahshi, the stuffed marrow that became an emblem of Levantine home cooking. Across the Aegean, Greek cooks grated it into the fritters called kolokithokeftedes, and in the Maghreb it slipped into the tagine and the couscous pot. It was in Italy, however, that the squash was most thoroughly transformed, and it was the southern kitchens that moved first. Neapolitan cooks sliced and fried the elongated zucca lunga in olive oil and steeped it in vinegar and mint in the manner called alla scapece, a technique descended from the ancient Roman practice of preserving fried fish and vegetables in acid, whilst in Rome the blossoms were battered and fried in a tradition rooted in the Jewish quarter. From these southern beginnings the cultivation of the long summer squash travelled up the peninsula through Liguria and into the Po valley, where it met the patient, decades-long work of selection that would at last produce the vegetable we know. The modern zucchini was born not in the milpa of Mexico but in the kitchen gardens of Lombardy: the market gardeners of Milan bred, over many seasons, a consistently slender, dark-green, thin-skinned cultivar at its sweetest and most tender when cut young, and by approximately 1880 this variety was being listed in Milanese seed catalogues under the name zucchino, 'little gourd', the diminutive plural of which, zucchini, would conquer the English-speaking world. From Lombardy the new cultivar set out on its final voyages. Italian emigrants carried its seed across the Atlantic to the United States, to Brazil, and to Australia in the great migrations of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, planting it in the market gardens of Brooklyn, the interior of São Paulo, and the truck farms of Victoria, and giving the English-speaking New World its word, zucchini. The same vegetable reached Britain by an entirely separate path, through French rather than Italian channels: French gardeners had named the long green squash courgette, the diminutive of courge, and it was under that French name that Elizabeth David introduced it to British readers after the Second World War. This double transmission, Italian to the Americas and French to Britain, is the reason a single plant from Oaxaca is eaten today under two different names on opposite shores of one ocean.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Zucchini belongs above all to the great tradition of cucina povera, the resourceful poor kitchen of the Italian south and the eastern Mediterranean, where its very abundance was at once its virtue and its difficulty. A single healthy plant fruits prolifically through the whole of summer, setting far more than any household can eat before each tender green finger swells into a watery, club-sized marrow and loses its delicate flavour, and it is this relentless surplus that has driven cooks to such inventiveness with it. The vegetable is sliced and slow-fried with garlic and basil into a sauce for pasta, as in the Neapolitan pasta alla Nerano with its melting Provolone del Monaco; it is puréed into the silky basil-scented crema di zucchine of Lombardy; it is grated and bound with feta, dill, and mint into Greek fritters; it is stuffed in the Levantine and Ottoman manner; and, where all else fails, it is grated into the sweet, spiced quick bread with which American cooks dispose of the August glut. What is most remarkable about the zucchini's long journey is that it was genuinely reinvented in each place it arrived rather than merely translated, transformed every time according to the inner logic of the local kitchen: stuffed and simmered in the Levant, fried and soured in Naples, slow-stewed into ratatouille in Provence, battered into feather-light tempura in Japan, and tempered with cumin and mustard seed into a dry sabzi in the cities of northern India. Today it is grown on every inhabited continent and ranks amongst the most widely cultivated vegetables on earth, with great commercial production in China, India, Turkey, and throughout the Mediterranean basin, and it is prized in the modern kitchen for its lightness, its low calorie count, and its willingness to take on almost any flavour. Yet its cultural heartland remains where it was perfected, in the kitchen gardens of Lombardy and the trattorie of Rome, the place where a squash from the highlands of Oaxaca was given a diminutive Italian name and sent out to the rest of the world as though it had always been Italian.

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