October. Colette turns twelve — not thirteen yet, but twelve, the last year before teenager, and she's leaning into it with the confidence of a girl who has been preparing for adolescence since she was six. She wanted a "gallery opening" for her birthday — a display of her paintings in the living room, with guests walking through and looking at art and eating appetizers. My twelve-year-old daughter wants a gallery opening. The world is getting what it deserves with this girl.
Danielle and I set up the living room: paintings on easels, small plates, wine (for adults), sparkling cider (for the kids), and the kind of cheese plate that Colette described as "curated" and that I would describe as "cheese on a board" but I know better than to argue with the curator. The paintings: the yellow cottage (three versions, each better than the last), the pit at sunset, Mama's garden, the bayou at dawn, a self-portrait in watercolors that made Danielle cry.
Twenty people came. Friends, family, teachers. Mrs. Henderson from the art program at the community center, who told me quietly, "She has real talent, Mr. Beaumont. Real talent." I said, "I know." And I do know. And the knowing is a kind of grief — the good grief, the grief of watching someone you made become something you couldn't have imagined. She's twelve and she has real talent and the talent is going to take her somewhere, and the somewhere might not be Baton Rouge, and the leaving is the point, and the point still hurts.
Made crawfish-stuffed mushrooms as appetizers — Colette's request, because "gallery food should be sophisticated, Papa." Crawfish tails mixed with cream cheese, garlic, green onion, stuffed into mushroom caps, baked until bubbly. Sophisticated. Approved by the curator. Eaten by Rémy in quantities that alarmed the other guests.
The crawfish mushrooms were Colette’s call, but when I make this kind of spread again — the cheese board, the small plates, the food that people pick up while they’re looking at something beautiful — I keep coming back to this asparagus tart. It has the same energy: something that looks like it took more work than it did, something that feels considered, something the curator would approve. Gallery food doesn’t have to be complicated; it just has to look like it means something.
Asparagus Tart
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
- 1 lb fresh asparagus, trimmed
- 3/4 cup ricotta cheese
- 1/2 cup shredded Gruyère or Parmesan cheese
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1/2 tsp lemon zest
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
- Fresh thyme or chives for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
- Prepare pastry. Unfold puff pastry onto the prepared baking sheet. Using a knife, lightly score a 1-inch border around the edges without cutting all the way through. Brush the border with beaten egg.
- Mix the filling. In a small bowl, combine ricotta, half the shredded cheese, garlic, lemon zest, salt, and pepper. Stir until smooth.
- Spread and top. Spread the ricotta mixture evenly inside the scored border. Arrange asparagus spears in a single layer over the ricotta, alternating tips and ends for even coverage. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle remaining cheese over the top.
- Bake. Bake for 22–25 minutes, until the pastry is golden and puffed at the edges and the asparagus is tender with slightly caramelized tips.
- Finish and serve. Let cool for 5 minutes. Garnish with fresh thyme or chives if desired. Slice into rectangles and serve warm or at room temperature.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 17g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg