Tastes Like Purple

Are you one of those people who thought that grape juice and grape jelly were, like watermelon Jolly Ranchers and Sour Apple Pucker, completely artificial? A simulacrum of real fruit flavor? Because I was one of those people, until a few years ago, when I first tasted a Concord grape. It seems strange that I don’t have a specific memory of when that was–that’s how startling the flavor is–but I don’t. It was probably at the greenmarket, a sample taken from some farmer’s table, as they are not so readily available in your average supermarket, and due to their abundant seeds, they’re not the kind of fruit someone might just keep around as a snack. 

Anyway, at some point, I DID taste one, and said something ridiculous like, “Oh, my goodness, it tastes like grape juice!” Which is just like when I was visiting M. in Hamburg and looked at the stunning cloud formations hanging in the sky and said, “Wow, it looks like an impressionist painting,” and M., always a little more attuned to these things, responded, “Don’t you mean impressionist paintings look like this sky?” Touché, Fraulein Doktor Fulbright Scholar. (What’s German for “touché?)

So I knew what Concord grapes were, and knew what they had the potential to be in things like sorbet, courtesy of L. at a previous edition of Cook Club. But I had never cooked with them myself. And when a pound or so showed up with my fruit share the other week, it took me quite a while to decide on their destiny.

Ultimately, I settled on a pie. Because pie is generally the answer to every question, anyway. I nixed Martha Stewart’s recipe (even she makes a prickly comment about the number of hours it takes to de-seed the grapes for her version) and instead went to Joy. Because Joy is also generally the answer to every question. 

Start with about a pound of Concord grapes (which Joy refers to as “blue” grapes).

Squeeze each one out of its skin, into a pot, reserving the dark, dusky purple peels. 

This process gave me the distinct feeling that I was working with an alien creature. The peel comes off so easily, and it’s so surprising that the fruit inside is a slimy, gelatinous green mess–nothing like the outside. Looking at the pile of grape skins on my cutting board, all I could think of was that episode of Buffy where their eggs are secretly demon parasites. 

Now you’ve got a pile of empty grape husks, and a pot full of eyeballs. Or demons that are going to force you to kill your friends & dig a hole under the school. Either way.

If you want to flavor the pie with anything other than just grapes, now is the time to do it. I was inspired by this recipe and went with half a cinnamon stick, one piece of star anise, some black peppercorns, and lemon peel. I popped those aromatics in a loose-leaf tea bag and simmered everything together until the seeds started to come out of the fruit of their own accord.

Strain the whole mess through a sieve–

–and then add in the grape skins (chopped), some corn starch, a bit of sugar, and lemon juice.

Stir it all up and pour into a prepared tart crust. If you are feeling creative, you can do something other than a boring top-crust, or a traditional lattice. I decided to unearth my inner Martha and construct a bunch of grapes from the extra crust. I do recommend doing SOMETHING on top, though, because the flavor is quite intense and you need to up the crust-to-filling ratio.

Bake away.

And now let’s admire my handiwork again:

Concord Grape Tart

adapted from The Joy of Cooking (1943 edition)

makes a 9″ pie

1 batch of your favorite pie crust recipe (mine is Martha’s)

1 lb Concord grapes

spices (optional):

1/2 cinnamon stick

1 piece star anise

1/2 tsp black peppercorns

zest from 1 small lemon

1/2-3/4 c sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp lemon juice

1/2 Tbsp corn starch

Make your pie crust and stick it in the fridge while you assemble the filling.

Preheat the oven to 450F.

Squeeze each grape out of its peel, letting the fruit and any juices fall into a pot, and piling up the skins on a cutting board. To the pot, add the spices (if you’re using them) in a tea bag or wrapped in cheesecloth. Bring it to a simmer and cook until the seeds begin to separate from the fruit. Remove the tea bag of spices and strain the fruit through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl.

Chop up the grape skins and add them to the bowl, along with the sugar, lemon juice, and corn starch. Stir everything together and let sit while you roll out your pie crust. 

Line your pie or tart pan with the crust, and then pour in the grape filling. Create the top crust of your choice, and put your pie in the oven. After 10 minutes, turn down the heat to 350F and bake another 20 minutes. Let cool before serving, ideally with whipped cream, buttermilk sorbet, a spoonful of unsweetened applesauce, plain yogurt… (This tart benefits from a little something tart on the side.)