Thousand Islands Life, Butter Tarts

This past December TILife’s copy editor, Elspeth Naismith, presented "Call for Recipes!" The article showed a tea towel that hangs proudly in her kitchen and which provides the ingredients for a "Traditional 1000 Islands Shore Dinner," written by the late Les Cook, renowned Canadian fishing guide. Elspeth suggested that our River communities have many farmers, restaurants, store keepers, and yes, both year round and summer residents who have favourite recipes that all have special River meanings."TILife’s "Traditional 1000 Islands Shore Dinner,"

Elspeth wrote: . . . "Thousand Islands Life" is asking our readers to share their favourite River recipe with us. Tell us about the recipe, why it’s special, and why it reminds you of the River. Is it something that you only make at a specific time of the year? Is it a dish that you only make when you’re on the River?"

Butter Tarts

Butter tarts are one of those treats that I make when I know people are coming for a cup of coffee or tea. They are quintessentially Canadian, their origins lost in time, and the subject of much debate and disagreement. Some claim that their roots are in recipes brought by French women settling along the shores of the St Lawrence in the 17th century. Others argue that they have their genesis in the recipes of the United Empire Loyalists who fled the United States after the American revolutionary war and settled on the north shore of the St Lawrence.

The recipe that I use is one that has been handed down from mother to daughter. It was an heirloom of sorts and, if family lore is to be believed, it links five generations of the matrilineal line.

I assume that the family recipe originated with Emily Amelia, who was born in 1858. She was the first of the matrilineal line to be born in Canada. Butter tarts would not have been part of the repertoire of Catherine, her mother, who emigrated from Ireland at some point in the middle of the 19th century. Perhaps, Emily Amelia learned it from Serena, her Canadian-born mother-in-law.

Emily Amelia taught her daughter Catherine Serena, who was born in 1881, how to bake butter tarts. She, in turn, taught Lila Claire who was born in 1906. Her daughter Audrey Claire, who was born in 1926, was my mother.

There was no need to write the recipe out because each woman knew without the use of a teaspoon or a measuring cup how much of each ingredient was needed. Experience taught them when the mixture looked ‘just right’ and was ready to be spooned into the uncooked pastry shells.

It is one of those recipes that, when looking at the history of a family, may seem unchanged and unchanging. But the truth of the matter is that each of those women who held the mixing spoon would have altered it, if only slightly, to reflect their personal tastes.

My grandmother made use of a walnut-sized piece of butter. The brown sugar was measured in a chipped teacup. The salt and cinnamon were pinched. The vanilla was a splash. The raisins fit in the curled palm of her hand. If they were dry, she would soak them in some boiling water. Once puffed up, she patted them dry with a tea towel. Eggs did not come in sizes of small, medium, large, or extra large. An egg was an egg. All these ingredients were mixed furiously with a soup spoon, in hope that the chunks of butter disappeared.

The pastry, a basic combination of shortening, flour, water, and salt, was thinly rolled out. My grandmother used that chipped teacup to measure the circles of dough. She would cut around the outer rim of the cup to form the shells of the tarts.

My mother always used a blue Pyrex bowl to mix the filling. It had, together with three larger bowls, been a wedding gift. Its colour has faded with time and the transition from washing the dishes in the sink to using a dishwasher. I don’t remember that bowl being used for anything other than making butter tarts. It now sits, nested in the larger bowls, in my kitchen. I pull it out when I am making butter tarts.

The piece of butter was still the size of walnut when my mother was making tarts. She, however, used a glass measuring cup for the brown sugar. Her egg of preference was a large one. The salt was still pinched but the measurement of cinnamon was much more generous.

Her hand still cradled the right number of raisins. Rather than water, however, my mother soaked them in rum. The raisins were added to the filling. The rum, a cook’s treat of sorts, was slurped from the bowl. She dispensed with the vanilla, feeling it might interfere with the warm savour of the rum.

Rather than a teacup to measure the width of the circle of pastry, my mother used a brandy snifter, pushing it into the thin dough and giving it a twist. Its diameter was not perfect. The filling all too often boiled up and over the edges. She would have to use a kitchen knife to free the tarts from the cupcake tins.

I don’t measure my butter, estimating how big a walnut-sized piece of butter is. The brown sugar is measured in a dry ingredient measuring cup. When I was given the set of nested cups, I imagined that the gift-giver had been desperate, having run out of ideas. As it turned out, they have proven useful.

I cradle the raisins in my hand, looking to see if the mound is just right. I then soak them in rum or cognac. I do not gulp down the alcohol, preferring instead to add it to the mixture. I am also more heavy-handed with the spices than were either my mother or my grandmother. Cinnamon is now joined by ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and allspice.

Rather than an old teacup or a brandy snifter, I use a dough cutter for the circles of pastry, ensuring that the tart filling does not boil over.

The value of the recipe that has been passed down the generations of women in my family is not measured in dollars and cents. This heirloom of sorts would never have been included in a will or formed part of an estate. Its worth would have been measured in the aroma that fills the kitchen when the tarts are baking and in that first mouthful, once they are cool enough to eat.

Butter Tart Recipe

Yield: 16 – 18 tarts Prep time: 20 mins Pastry chill time: 30 mins Bake time: 25 mins

Ingredients: For the Pastry

2 cups flour
1 cup lard (Crisco or whatever you prefer)
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ cup water (more or less)

Ingredients: For the Filling

1 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon cloves
¼ teaspoon ginger
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1½ Tablespoons butter (at room temperature)
1 egg
1/3 cup raisins soaked in 2 Tablespoons rum or cognac (or water)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract if not adding rum or cognac soaking liquid from raisins

Instructions:

Mix together all of the pastry ingredients, using only enough water to make pastry come together. Don’t overwork the dough – that will make it tough and not as flaky. Chill dough in the fridge for 30 minutes.

While pastry chills, soak raisins for about 5 minutes, to plump them up. Drain the raisins and gently dry them off, reserving the soaking liquid for the filling or for the cook.

Blend together the brown sugar and spices, then vigorously cream in the butter, egg, and soaking liquid, if you’re using it. Last, mix in the raisins. Set filling aside.

Preheat the oven to 350°F, with a rack in the middle position.

Roll out the dough thinly, to about 1/8 inch. Using a 3½ inch cutter (or a chipped tea cup), cut out the pastry. You should have 16 – 18 tarts. Place pastry in the muffin tin and spoon 2 Tablespoons filling into each shell, making sure to distribute the raisins as evenly as possible. Trim and crimp the tart edges if you want, or go for a rustic look.

Bake for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool on a rack for about 15 minutes. Once completely cooled, keep in an airtight container for up to 7 days – if they last that long!!

[Copy Editor’s Note: The author suggests a 3½ inch biscuit cutter, but as noted, her ancestors used a number of circular objects for the pastry. So use what you’ve got. She does not turn the tarts when baking – but if you know that your oven has cooler and hotter spots, you might want to turn them halfway through. And let them cool enough so you don’t burn your mouth!]

By Kirsten Hulme

Kristin Hulme lives in Kingston Ontario, having moved there in 2000. She is a cook who believes that recipes provide suggestions rather than directions. Kristin shared another of her favourites with us in September 2024, called Empanadas Rio San Lorenzo.

[Editor's Note: our copy editor is Elspeth Naismith (Gananoque, ON) and not only does she know how to edit, but she is an official recipe tester for America's Test Kitchen.]