Strawberry Puff Pastry Dessert

Mother's Day. Denise organized brunch at her house — neutral ground, she called it, though I think she just didn't want me to have to cook and then eat in the kitchen where Earl died. She didn't say that. She said, "Let me host this year, Mama." I said okay. I brought cornbread because I can't show up anywhere empty-handed. It's against my religion.

Kayla gave me a card again. Not as devastating as last year's — last year she wrote about choosing me, and that card broke me open in the best way. This year she wrote: "Granny, you are the strongest woman I know. You fed a family, buried a husband, and came back to the stove. I want to be you when I grow up." I held that card and I thought: baby, you don't want to be me. You want to be yourself, who learned from me, who carries the recipes forward without carrying all the grief. That's the dream. To pass down the food without passing down the pain.

Earl Jr. called from Atlanta. His voice sounds more like Earl's every year, which is both wonderful and terrible. He told me Amara is crawling — six months old and already moving, already impatient with sitting still. He held the phone to her ear and she babbled something that might have been "Gah" and he said, "She said Granny!" She did not say Granny. She said "Gah." But I'll take it.

Patricia's daughter Alexis called from somewhere in California — she's a travel nurse now, inspired by Kayla, traveling the country healing people in places she's never been. She's twenty-three and brave in a way I was never brave, and I worry about her eating habits the way I worry about all young people — irregularly, probably too much caffeine, not enough greens. I told her to eat a vegetable. She said, "I had a smoothie." I said, "A smoothie is not a vegetable, Alexis." She laughed. I did not.

Made my first batch of strawberry shortcake this season. Biscuits from scratch — not cake, never cake, shortcake means biscuit in this house — split open, spooned with strawberries macerated in sugar, topped with whipped cream I made by hand because Cool Whip is a lie. We ate it on Denise's porch and the strawberry juice ran down my chin and for about five minutes I forgot to be sad. Five minutes. I'll take five minutes.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I know I said biscuits — and in this house, shortcake will always mean biscuits — but when Denise asked me to bring something to share after brunch, I made this puff pastry version for the second round of company, because the layers split open the same way and the strawberry juice runs just as freely. If five minutes of forgetting is what you’re after, this will give you those five minutes, maybe six.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 9

Ingredients

1 sheet frozen puff pastry (half of a 17.3 oz package), thawed
1 lb fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
3 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
1 cup heavy whipping cream, cold
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 tablespoon coarse sugar or turbinado sugar (optional, for topping)

Instructions

Macerate the strawberries. Combine sliced strawberries with 2 tablespoons granulated sugar in a medium bowl. Stir gently and let sit at room temperature for at least 20 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the berries release their juices.
Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Cut the pastry. Unfold the thawed puff pastry on a lightly floured surface. Cut into 9 equal squares (roughly 3x3 inches each). Place on the prepared baking sheet, spacing about 1 inch apart.
Egg wash and bake. Brush the tops of each pastry square lightly with beaten egg. Sprinkle with coarse sugar if using. Bake for 15–18 minutes, until deeply golden and puffed. Transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.
Whip the cream. In a cold bowl, beat heavy cream with an electric mixer on medium-high until soft peaks form. Add powdered sugar and vanilla extract and continue beating until firm peaks hold. Do not overbeat.
Assemble. Split each cooled pastry square in half horizontally with a serrated knife. Spoon a generous dollop of whipped cream onto the bottom half. Top with a heaping spoonful of macerated strawberries and a drizzle of the accumulated juices. Place the pastry top over the berries and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Puff Pastry Dessert — Five Minutes of Forgetting