Nana Mulligan’s Butter Tarts

The Farmer’s Wife is a Mother. She is a Sister. She is an Aunt. She is not a Grandmother, and certainly not a Nana—although she has high hopes in being one someday. She did however have both of these at one time or another, therefore she feels comfortable discussing them at length.

Today, Nana will be presented. Picture her: A small woman; maybe all of four nine and eighty pounds dripping wet. She’s there, waiting at the back door the moment you arrive to usher you in. Now, I know it’s not much of a back door. Not what it once was. At one time it had been a great Farm, with cows and land, but now it’s just a back door—but a back door to where? To a warm kitchen with a Nana bustling about. She offers you tea (of course) and butter tarts. She has bags and bags of these in her freezer, just waiting for your arrival. They’re warmed and set on a plate and tea is poured and conversing begins. It’s a warm place. A happy place. A place that exists now only in the memory of the Farmer’s Wife and those blessed enough to have known a tiny woman named Nana.

Even for those it is easy to forget. Life gets busy. Years have passed. But one bite of these precious tarts and it all comes back. That door. That woman. Those tarts.

Now, before we begin, it must be confessed, one change has been made to the recipe. You see Nana’s tarts had raisins. And those of you who know the Farmer’s Wife well, know raisons have never and will never grace her table. Even in Nana’s kitchen, when the tarts were presented, the raisins were carefully removed and sipped to a waiting Buffy (a very helpful puppy, that one), and seeing as that the Farm has no Buffy, the raisins had to be left out. If you are so fortunate to have such a helpful pup in your kitchen, by all means, add them. To make amends for this omission, Nana’s tonic of choice has been added as a replacement.

Now, on to that recipe:

Take one cup flour and to it add one half teaspoon salt, mix well. Cut in a half cup butter—the Farmer’s Wife uses a hand-held pastry blender, but a food processer or your hands may be utilized as well, just so long as the butter is cut into little pieces—about the size of a split-pea. Once that is done, stir in two to three tablespoons cold water. Once the dough comes together, get your hands in there and form a ball. Roll this out on a lightly floured surface until thin—just as you would a pie crust. Use a glass to cut your dough into circles, those being just a bit larger than the tins they’re being put in to.

The Farmer’s Wife uses the mini-muffin type. Set the dough, one in each and make sure it settles in a bit. For this, the Farmer’s Wife uses her muddler, but the but end of a wooden spoon would work just as well.

Set the pan aside and make the filling. One third cup brown sugar is stirred into one third cup syrup. You can use golden, corn, or Agave. Whichever you like. The Farmer’s Wife is a Farmer after all, so she goes for the corn variety. To this three tablespoons melted butter is added and stirred until all is smooth and lovely. One egg is added next and given careful attention. All must remains smooth. A good tablespoon Whiskey is next and in this case being of the Black Velvet variety (Cheers to you, Nana!) You may also take a bit yourself, as it adds to the experience. The filling is made complete with a pinch of salt.

Carefully pour the filling into the waiting crusts, being careful to fill about two-thirds of the way up. These puff-up a bit, and if it spills over, are a bear to get out of the pan.

Bake in a three-hundred-and-fifty-degree oven until done, about ten minutes, but that depends on the size of the muffin pan you used. The Farmer’s Wife makes wee-tarts, so ten minutes it is for her.

Now, you can freeze these as Nana did, or eat them right out of the oven. Either way, they must be had with a spot of tea and cream and good conversation.