Rustic Chocolate Raspberry Tart

Mother's Day. Drove down to Mama's. Brought her flowers and a smoked ham. She fussed.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

My back was tight after the wood-splitting Saturday. Took an Aleve. Slept eight hours. Got up.

I split a half-cord of wood Saturday. Slowly. The back does not let me work fast anymore. It got done. The wood was for the smokehouse.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

I went up to Earl's grave at the Evarts cemetery Saturday. Brought a beer. Drank half. Poured the rest on the dirt. Some traditions are mine alone.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

Read the paper at breakfast Tuesday. The county news is not great. The mines have not come back and they will not come back. The young people leave. The hollows empty. We stay.

Watching Connie come down from that blackberry patch with twelve jars put up for winter—there’s a gratitude in that I don’t have the right words for yet, same as Mama’s soup beans. The mountains have been giving back this year, she said, and I believe it. This rustic chocolate raspberry tart is my way of honoring what the hollow offers—something a little wild, a little rich, made with hands that know the work. You don’t need it to be perfect. Rustic is the point.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min + 20 min cooling | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 homemade or refrigerated pie crust, rolled to a rough 12-inch circle
6 oz dark chocolate (70% cacao), finely chopped
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups fresh raspberries (or thawed frozen, patted dry)
1 large egg, beaten (for egg wash)
2 tablespoons turbinado or coarse sugar
Pinch of flaky sea salt

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 375°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and lay the rolled crust on top. Refrigerate while you make the filling.
Make the ganache. Warm the heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat until it just begins to simmer at the edges—do not boil. Remove from heat and add the chopped chocolate, butter, and granulated sugar. Let sit 90 seconds, then stir slowly from the center out until the ganache is completely smooth and glossy. Stir in the vanilla extract.
Spread. Remove the crust from the refrigerator. Pour the ganache onto the center and spread it evenly with the back of a spoon, leaving a clean 2-inch border all the way around the edge.
Add the berries. Scatter the raspberries in a single layer over the ganache. They don’t need to be arranged —this is a rustic tart.
Fold the crust. Working around the tart, fold the exposed border of crust up and over the outer edge of the filling, pleating and pressing gently as you go to keep the sides upright. Some ganache peeking through the folds is fine.
Finish. Brush the folded crust generously with the beaten egg. Sprinkle the turbinado sugar over the crust and a pinch of flaky sea salt over the berries.
Bake. Bake 30—35 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the ganache has set and lost its raw sheen. The raspberries will soften and their juices will bleed slightly into the chocolate—that is correct.
Cool and serve. Allow the tart to rest on the pan for at least 20 minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature. A spoonful of whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream alongside it does no harm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Rustic Chocolate Raspberry Tart — What the Hollow Gives Back