Asparagus Tart with Prosciutto and Burrata

Spring. The garden planted, the tomatoes in, the basil potted, the zucchini (against my better judgment) seeded. The writing continues — six chapters now. Rebecca has read them all and her notes are precise and generous and occasionally devastating in the way that only a daughter who is also a literature professor can be devastating: "This paragraph is beautiful, Mama. Cut it." I cut it. The cutting is the craft. The cutting hurts. But the chapter is better without the paragraph, and the better is the goal, and the goal is the book, and the book is the chain in written form.

Ethan's bar mitzvah is in two months — June. He is twelve now, nearly thirteen, and the preparations are consuming David and Jennifer's household the way Passover preparations consume mine: with lists and rehearsals and the specific anxiety of a family about to present their child to the community and say: he is ready. He can read Torah. He is a man. The "man" is theoretical — he is twelve, and twelve is not a man by any measure except the liturgical — but the liturgy matters, the reading matters, the standing in front of the congregation and saying the words matters, and Ethan is preparing, and I am preparing the food, because the food is my contribution, because the food is always my contribution, and the food for Ethan's bar mitzvah will be the best food I have ever made, because this is Ethan, my first grandchild, and the bar mitzvah is the chain at its most visible, and the chain demands the best brisket.

The asparagus went in alongside the tomatoes this year, a late decision I do not regret. There is something clarifying about a planted garden — the rows decided, the work begun, the waiting underway — and I found myself wanting a recipe that honored that same sense of order and anticipation. This tart is what I made that first evening after the planting: flaky pastry, roasted asparagus, prosciutto draped just so, and burrata that collapses into everything like a soft, generous conclusion. It is not brisket. The brisket is for Ethan, in June, and it will be the best I have ever made. But this tart is for now, for spring, for the quiet satisfaction of a garden put to bed and a chapter written and a granddaughter’s note taken seriously.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
1 lb fresh asparagus, tough ends trimmed
3 oz prosciutto, thinly sliced (about 4–5 slices)
8 oz burrata cheese (1 large or 2 small balls)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
Fresh basil leaves or microgreens, for serving
Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.
Prepare the pastry. Unfold the thawed puff pastry onto the prepared baking sheet. Using a sharp knife, lightly score a 1-inch border around the perimeter, being careful not to cut all the way through. Brush the border with beaten egg wash. Prick the interior of the pastry all over with a fork to prevent puffing.
Pre-bake the shell. Bake the pastry for 10 minutes, until it is just beginning to turn golden. Remove from the oven. If the center has puffed, press it gently back down with the back of a spoon.
Season the asparagus. While the pastry bakes, toss the trimmed asparagus with 1 1/2 tablespoons of the olive oil, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper until evenly coated.
Layer the tart. Drizzle the remaining 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil over the interior of the partially baked pastry. Lay the prosciutto slices across the base in a loose, slightly rumpled layer. Arrange the seasoned asparagus spears over the prosciutto in a single layer, alternating tip directions for a tidy appearance.
Finish baking. Return the tart to the oven and bake for an additional 14–16 minutes, until the asparagus is tender and lightly charred at the tips and the pastry is deeply golden at the edges.
Add the burrata. Remove the tart from the oven and let it rest for 2 minutes. Tear the burrata over the tart, distributing the creamy interior across the surface. Sprinkle with lemon zest, red pepper flakes if using, fresh basil leaves or microgreens, and a pinch of flaky sea salt.
Serve immediately. Slice into portions and serve warm or at room temperature. The tart is best eaten the day it is made.

Nutrition (per serving)

Asparagus Tart with Prosciutto and Burrata — A Spring Garden Celebration Before the Big Day