RECIPE: Broccolini Tarte Tatin
A simple vegetarian dish perfect for the New Year
Exactly a year ago I came up with a clever idea: apple tarte tatin, but make it broccolini! I mean, change a few things too — no one wants a jumble of brassicas floating about in caramel. At least… I don’t think they do?
My concept was tatin-ish in method only, not really ingredients: sauté a bunch of broccolini, top with dough, bake in the oven, and flop the whole thing out onto a platter for eternal adoration and adulation.
A savory tatin - ingenious! Revolutionary! Groundbreaking!
And, of course, done ten times over on the internet. But I didn’t know that at the time. Apparently I was late to the savory tatin game, but that’s okay. MY version is still my own, and I came up with it all by myself, which, let’s be honest, is shocking.
Even more surprising is how well this experiment turned out right out of the gate. I wouldn’t say “10 out of 10, no notes.” But maybe “9 out of 10, light notes.” Here’s how it all unfolded.
I warmed up a glug of olive oil in a cast iron skillet over medium high heat, and once it was hot, I tossed in a bundle of broccolini. I seasoned with kosher salt and cooked, largely undisturbed, until the stalks softened and took on some char.
Next I cut an onion into thin slices and scattered them atop the cooked broccolini. I figured they would cook down and soften, creating a vaguely wet, sweet-and-savory substitute for the caramel in a standard apple tarte tatin. It would still need something to bind it together though - so why not a whole bunch of grated parmesan? That’s what I did, with great fervor.
All I needed was the dough. Luckily I had a sheet of puff pastry waiting for me in the fridge. OR DID I?
Imagine my horror when I remembered that I had fecklessly used the last sheet of puff pastry on some idiotic pursuit two days earlier. A travesty! I decided I would meet this challenge head on: I would assemble a pie dough from scratch. What could go wrong?
Timing, for one thing. I strangely decided to embark on this experiment 45 minutes prior to meeting three friends for coffee — not a problem in a puff-pastry-having world. But now, with the added burden of making impromptu pie dough? Drama. I frantically wrenched the ingredients off each and every shelf and went about the business of mashing cold butter with flour. It’s not an easy task, especially when you discover that your forearms are offensively underdeveloped.
Mash mash mash. For all my efforts, the butter simply would not crush into the flour. Go figure. Whenever I want butter to be firm, it turns to goo. But now that I wanted some sort of pliability, the butter was resolutely unflappable. I was running out of time. A social plan was nearing! With coffee!
I simply could not bare the shame of tardiness, especially because I had no good excuse. What could I say? “Sorry I made you all wait for me. I was subverting the very notion of a tarte tatin.” And so I rushed the hell out of this dough, doing whatever I could to make it come together in a somewhat usable form. And if you think I let it chill in the fridge for even ten seconds, you are sadly mistaken.
I rolled out one sad pie round, draped it over my broccolini mixture, and threw it in the oven. I figured this would be a bust, given the dough drama, but when the concoction emerged 30 minutes later, it was breathtaking. The broccolini had turned dark and moody, coiling up like a foreboding thicket. The flavor was wonderful: charred florets struck crunchy, bitter notes while the stalks provided the sort of earthy nuttiness we’d expect from roasted broccolini. Meanwhile, the parmesan had turned into frico in spots, forming crisp accents that played nicely against the softened and sweetened onions.
With only three ingredients, this tarte tatin was exploding with layers of flavor. Salty, sweet, umami - all the things. A total success.
But that dough. Not a triumph. It was lumpy, dry and cloying. I needed to erase its memory and redo the experiment. Luckily, the dough recipe had yielded two rounds; so I was already equipped for future tatin endeavors. Unluckily, by the time I circled back to this recipe, the second disk of dough had gone moldy in the fridge, and so ONCE AGAIN, I had to make unplanned hasty dough. It was the same sad story: the topping was sensational and the crust was abhorrent.
Third time around, though, I leaned into a concept called “preparation.” I actually LOOKED in my fridge before cooking and saw what I needed! Turns out this was a helpful approach. I bought some puff pastry (because at that point, I was done with attempting pie dough), and with my crust secured, all the components of this tatin could finally, finally come together. Now the beautiful flavors of the broccolini, onion, and parmesan were complemented by the flakey, buttery decadence of puff pastry. A glorious marriage.
I considered adding more elements - maybe it needed to be saucier? Perhaps another vegetable or seasoning? Would this be a good occasion for mustard? Or lemon? Maybe. But the truth is there’s something magical about how much flavor so few ingredients produce. I really do love this dish, and I want to honor its simplicity. For someone who writes endless paragraphs ahead of a recipe, let’s enjoy this rare moment of self-editing.
I have some minor updates at the end of the recipe - please check them out!
Broccolini Tarte Tatin
An easy and delicious anytime dish. Serve it for brunch, lunch, dinner, or a side. Pictures to follow.
Ingredients:
2 bundles of broccolini
1 medium red onion
1 tbs extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1/4-1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (or more if that’s your thing)
1 sheet puff pastry, thawed
1 egg
1-2 tbs water
The Steps:
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Prep the vegetables: Slice off any woody ends of the broccolini and halve any stalks that are significantly thicker than the rest of the gang. I like my stalks to be about the size of a pencil. If it’s a Sharpie size, I’d slice it.
Slice your onion into 1/4” rings. If that’s annoying, you can make half rings. I won’t judge.
Start cooking: Heat 1 tbs olive oil in a 12” oven-safe skillet, preferably cast iron, over medium-high heat. Once hot (look for thin, shimmering oil), add the broccolini in as much of a single layer as possible. Season with salt and pepper to taste (about 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp black pepper).
Cook the broccolini until it’s lightly charred with a few brown spots, stirring occasionally, but no need to dote obsessively. Snip off a tiny bit of a thicker stem and taste for seasoning and texture. You want the broccolini to have softened enough to be a little bendy.
Arrange it: Remove the skillet from the heat. With tongs, move the broccolini around so it lays in an even layer - the more swirly and tangled the better.
Scatter the sliced onions over the broccolini in an even layer. Season with salt.
Don’t forget to season your onions! I neglected this step in the original recipe, and I sorely missed the seasoning when I recreated the dish!
Now add the parmesan all over the skillet. I like heavy coverage: think snowstorm, not flurries. Feel free to use less, and of course, help yourself to more if that’s your vibe. Just know that the parmesan also acts as a binder; so skimping comes at a risk.
Dough time: remove your puff pastry from the fridge, and on a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a 12’x12” square-ish shape. No need to bust out a ruler - just make it large enough to fill the skillet.
Transfer the dough to the skillet and drape it over the broccolini mixture. Then, with a rubber spatula, tuck the puff pastry in all around the edges of the mixture.
Note that we are not wrapping the skillet with puff pastry like a pot pie. We are instead shrouding the broccolini so that it’s all contained when we later flip this whole thing out of the pan.
Beat the egg with a few tablespoons of water. Then brush the egg wash onto the puff pastry in an even layer.
Bake it: Put the skillet in the oven and bake until the dough turns a rich, golden brown - about 30 minutes (it may take longer - rely on your eyes more than the clock).
Flip it out: Remove the skillet from the oven. Run a knife or an offset spatula around the edges of the tatin, just to make sure it’s loosened. Next, place a cutting board over the skillet. Carefully - and with oven mitts! - invert this whole contraption. Give it a few shakes and maybe a thwack with your hand (oven mitts!) until you hear the soft thud of the tatin falling onto the board. Remove the pan and serve hot (warm or room temp is okay too).
If any pieces stick to the pan, just use tongs to pry them off and add them back onto the tatin. No biggie.
Updates: since I published this recipe, I’ve discovered two things. First, I forgot to tell you all to season the onions. Definitely do that. The tatin is sad with underseasoned onions … but it’s brilliant when they ARE seasoned! Also, I made it recently with a white onion, and it was good but not as good as red. So def do red if you can. Lastly, I *just* reheated a slice and added some marinated feta on top (specifically Meredith Dairy, which is pricey but so worth it). This was lovely. I highly encourage a feta variant, even if it does take the dish into more of a pizza or flatbread place.
Let me know how it works out for you — I welcome any and all suggestions!
Yes! And there’s only one way to find out!
Definitely going to try this! Thank you for this and for everything else. You bring joy to so many, and that is no small thing. I hope 2025 is a great one for you and yours. xo