Tarte Bourdaloue

Paris's great pear tart: poached Williams pear halves set into a pale, fragrant almond cream baked in a buttery pastry shell, the frangipane swelling around the fruit until golden: the tart that the pâtisseries of the Rue Bourdaloue sold to all of Belle Époque Paris

Origin: France

From the journey of Pear.

The Tarte Bourdaloue takes its name from the Rue Bourdaloue in the 9th arrondissement of Paris, a short street near the Opéra Garnier named for the Jesuit preacher Louis Bourdaloue (1632–1704), whose sermons were so long that ladies of the court reportedly brought chamber pots to church in muffs: a story that led to chamber pots being nicknamed 'bourdaloues' in French. The tart itself: a pear frangipane tart in a shortcrust or pâte sucrée shell, appeared on the menus of the pâtisseries of the Rue Bourdaloue and the surrounding Opéra quarter in the 1870s–1880s and rapidly became one of the emblematic Parisian tarts of the Belle Époque. It appears in the notebooks of pastry chefs who supplied the grand hôtels and the café-restaurants of the boulevards. The genius of the Bourdaloue is in the combination: the frangipane (crème d'amandes; ground almonds, butter, sugar, eggs, flour, almond extract) swells around the poached pear halves during baking, almost enveloping them, so that the finished tart is a study in complementary textures; crisp pastry, yielding almond cream, tender fruit. The pear is the ideal fruit for this treatment: it holds its shape under the heat, its gentle sweetness does not compete with the almond, and its juice perfumes the frangipane from within.

Ingredients

Pears

  • 4 medium firm Williams or Comice pears, poached in vanilla syrup (see step 1) or canned pear halves in syrup, drained

Pastry (pâte sucrée)

  • 200 g plain flour
  • 100 g cold unsalted butter, cubed
  • 60 g icing sugar (confectioners' sugar)
  • 1 large egg yolk
  • 1 pinch salt
  • 2 tbsp cold water

Frangipane (crème d'amandes)

  • 150 g ground almonds (almond flour)
  • 150 g unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
  • 150 g white sugar
  • 3 large eggs, at room temperature
  • 2 tbsp plain flour
  • 1 tsp pure almond extract (or 1 tbsp poire William eau-de-vie for authenticity)

Glaze

  • 3 tbsp apricot jam, warmed and sieved (for the glaze)

Topping

  • 25 g flaked almonds (for the top, optional but traditional)

Method

  1. Poach the pears: make a light syrup (500ml water + 150g sugar + 1 vanilla pod) and simmer the peeled, halved, and cored pears for 15–20 minutes until just tender. Remove and cool on a rack. (If using canned pears, drain and pat dry thoroughly.)
  2. Make the pâte sucrée: blend the flour, icing sugar, and salt. Rub in the cold butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk and cold water, mix until the dough just comes together. Flatten into a disc, wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
  3. Roll the chilled pastry to 3mm thickness on a lightly floured surface. Line a 24–26cm loose-bottomed tart tin, pressing carefully into the corners. Trim the overhang. Prick the base with a fork and refrigerate for 20 minutes. Blind bake at 180°C for 15 minutes with baking beans, then 5 minutes without, until pale gold. Set aside.
  4. Make the frangipane: beat the softened butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy (about 3 minutes). Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Fold in the ground almonds, flour, and almond extract. The frangipane should be smooth and creamy.
  5. Spread the frangipane evenly into the blind-baked tart shell; it should fill the shell to about two-thirds. Arrange the pear halves cut-side down on the frangipane, fanning them out from the centre like spokes of a wheel or placing them in a radial pattern. Press each pear half gently into the frangipane.
  6. Scatter flaked almonds over the exposed frangipane between and around the pears. Bake at 180°C for 30–35 minutes until the frangipane is golden, puffed, and set; a skewer inserted into the centre of the frangipane should come out clean.
  7. While the tart is still warm, brush the entire surface, pears, frangipane, and almonds, with the warm, sieved apricot glaze. This gives the tart its characteristic Parisian mirror-finish and prevents the pear from drying out.
  8. Serve at room temperature; the Bourdaloue is at its best 2–4 hours after baking, when the frangipane has fully set and the flavours have integrated. Serve in thin slices with a small spoonful of crème fraîche alongside.

Notes

The crème d'amandes (frangipane) used in the Tarte Bourdaloue is related to but distinct from the crème frangipane used in a Galette des Rois; the Bourdaloue version is a pure almond cream without the addition of pastry cream (crème pâtissière). The addition of pastry cream to almond cream creates crème frangipane, which is lighter and more mousse-like; the pure crème d'amandes is denser and more intensely almond-flavoured, which suits the pairing with pear. The name 'frangipane' is believed to derive from the Frangipani family of Rome, who in the 16th century created a perfume from almonds and musk; the scent was later applied to almond-flavoured preparations in the French kitchen.

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. 1900 CE
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14 of 14 stops
1900 CE
5000 BCE600 CE1650 CE1900 CE
Pear

Pear

Pyrus communis (European) / Pyrus pyrifolia (Asian)

FruitsRosaceae

🌍Origin

Two independent origins: the Caucasus and Western Asia (European pear) and Central China (Asian pear) — c. 5000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The pear is one of the oldest cultivated fruits in both hemispheres, and one of the few whose story unfolds twice over, on opposite sides of the Eurasian landmass, in two species that never met until the modern age. The genus Pyrus belongs to the rose family, the Rosaceae, the great fruit-bearing tribe that gave the world the apple, the quince, the plum, the cherry, and the almond, and the pear is the apple's nearest culinary cousin, differing chiefly in the gritty stone cells (the sclereids) that stud its flesh and give it the faintly granular texture that distinguishes a pear from an apple at the first bite. Pyrus communis, the European pear, was domesticated from wild ancestors in the forested foothills of the Caucasus, in the mountains of present-day Georgia, Armenia, and northern Iran, between roughly 5000 and 4000 BCE. The wild pear of those slopes is small, hard, and astringent, fit only for long simmering, and the transformation of that flinty fruit into the buttery, perfumed dessert pears of later centuries is the work of millennia of patient grafting and selection, for the pear, like the apple, does not breed true from seed and must be propagated by graft to preserve a variety. From P. communis descend the Comice, the Williams (the Bartlett of America), the Bosc, the Conference, and the Beurré d'Anjou, the melting, fragrant pears beloved in the French, Italian, and British kitchens. Pyrus pyrifolia, the Asian pear, called the nashi in Japan and the bae in Korea, was domesticated entirely independently in central and southern China around 3000 BCE, from a separate wild stock and within a separate civilisation. It is a wholly different fruit in the hand: round rather than tapering, crisp and high in water like a sweet, juicy apple rather than soft and melting, and it keeps its texture even when fully ripe. From this Chinese origin came the snow pear of the apothecary, the enzyme-rich pear of the Korean marinade, and the lavishly cultivated nashi of the Japanese orchard. Two species, two hemispheres, two entirely separate domestications, and between them the pear became essential to the cooking and the medicine of both halves of the Old World.

Global Voyage

The European pear spread westward from its Caucasian cradle through Persia to the Aegean, where it entered the literature of the West at the very beginning. Homer, in the Odyssey of around 800 BCE, set the pear amongst the immortal fruits of the garden of Alcinous, 'pears growing old along with pears', and so fixed it from the first as an emblem of civilised, ordered abundance. Greek and Roman cultivation then multiplied the fruit prodigiously: Theophrastus described both wild and cultivated pears in his Historia Plantarum around 300 BCE, and Pliny the Elder named forty-one distinct pear varieties in his Naturalis Historia of 77 CE, a measure of the extraordinary attention the Roman orchardist gave to the fruit. Roman legions, colonists, and traders carried pear cuttings across the whole empire, into Gaul, Iberia, and Britain, where the fruit took permanent root in the villa gardens and, later, in the cloistered orchards that succeeded them. It was the medieval monastery that made the European pear what it is. The Cistercian and Benedictine houses, with their disciplined gardens, their grafting knowledge, and their long institutional memory, became the great pear breeders of Europe: Warden Abbey in Bedfordshire gave its name to the hard, long-keeping Warden pear of the medieval English kitchen, and the lineages of the Beurré d'Anjou, the Comice, and the Williams all run back through French and English monastic and nursery orchards, refined over centuries into the melting dessert pears of the modern table. The high art of the pear reached its summit in the kitchens of France, where the poached pear became the foundation of two of the canon's most celebrated desserts, Poires Belle Hélène and the tarte Bourdaloue. The Asian pear, meanwhile, travelled its own road. From its Chinese heartland it moved along the trade routes into Korea by around 600 CE, and it was there that cooks made the discovery that turned a table fruit into a culinary tool: the bae contains active proteolytic enzymes that break down the tough fibres of beef at the molecular level, and grated into a marinade of soy, sesame, garlic, and ginger it produces the meltingly tender bulgogi that became Korea's most beloved and most widely exported dish. The fruit passed onward into Japan, where the nashi became one of the most lovingly cultivated of all orchard fruits. The last great expansion was colonial and oceanic. European settlers carried P. communis cuttings to the Cape of Good Hope in the late seventeenth century, where the cool Elgin Valley would produce Forelle and Packham's Triumph of exceptional quality, and across the Atlantic to North America, where Oregon's Hood River and Rogue River valleys, with their volcanic soils and cold mountain nights, became in the nineteenth century amongst the world's great pear regions. Italian and Spanish emigrants planted the deep, fertile soils of Patagonia's Río Negro valley in the 1870s and 1880s, making Argentina one of the finest pear-growing regions of the Southern Hemisphere. From a Homeric garden to a Patagonian orchard, the pear followed the spread of European settlement into very nearly every temperate corner of the earth.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

The pear is one of the great temperate fruits of the world, grown in vast quantity across both hemispheres, with China the dominant producer by a wide margin (chiefly of the Asian pear) and Argentina, Italy, the United States, and South Africa amongst the leading producers and exporters of the European fruit. The two species divide the work of the kitchen between them. The European pear is prized above all for its buttery, melting, aromatic flesh when fully ripe, a ripeness so fleeting that the fruit is traditionally picked hard and ripened off the tree, and it is the pear of the dessert and the cheeseboard. The Asian pear is valued instead for its crisp, juicy, refreshing texture, which it keeps even when ripe, and for the proteolytic enzymes that make it an irreplaceable tenderiser in the marinades of the Korean kitchen. In European and Western cooking, the pear's natural affinities have produced some of the most elegant preparations in the repertoire: its sweetness and perfume against the salt and lanolin of an aged Pecorino or a blue cheese; its softness against the bitterness of dark chocolate in Poires Belle Hélène; its acidity against the rich, nutty almond cream of the tarte Bourdaloue; and its fragrance drawn out by long poaching in red wine with cinnamon, cloves, and orange, a preparation that spans Europe from the French bistro to the Argentine peras al Malbec and the Cape's wine-poached pears. The hard perry pears of the Three Counties of England yield, when fermented, a sparkling drink of extraordinary range and subtlety. In the East, the pear's role is as much medicinal as culinary. In traditional Chinese medicine the snow pear is classified as cooling and moistening, beneficial to the lungs and throat, and bing tang dun xue li, a pear hollowed and filled with rock sugar and steamed until translucent, remains the canonical household remedy for a dry cough or a sore throat, a prescription little changed in two thousand years. From the apothecary's snow pear to the grand French pâtisserie, the pear is at once one of the most refined of dessert fruits and one of the oldest of household medicines.

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