Lime Curd Tart with Coconut Whipped Cream

Some people have a green thumb. To put it quite frankly, I am not one of them. While many gardeners can sow, weed, and prune a plant into flourishing perfection, I struggle to complete some of the more basic tasks, such as burying the seeds at the correct depth or finding the motivation to weed (perhaps a bit of laziness is also to blame). Even so, my plants have a tendency to wither despite regular watering. They gather the nasty little bugs whenever I want to keep a flower indoors, and my vegetable plants grow the smallest of produce at the end of the season.

I am become Death, the destroyer of plants.

Each spring the feeling of rebirth floats through the air, infecting me with a strong desire to kneel in the dirt and plant a garden. The eagerness to hold a handful of seeds makes me briefly forget my black thumb and the poor path my plants will soon travel down. When I lived at home with my parents, I would convince my mother to fill her garden with half a dozen varieties of vegetables. I convinced her that I would do the tending. I convinced her I would help them grow. Rarely, I am ashamed to admit, did I follow through on my deceitful promises. The plants would endure a hot sun, vagrant weeds, and abit of neglect. At the end of the season, we'd collect our micro-vegetables, telling ourselves that we would plant flowers next year instead.

As the temperature finally rose this weekend, I felt the familiar urge to dig around in the dirt and grow new life. The trees have not yet budded with leaves, but for the first time this year it felt like spring has arrived. Even though I know my planting ventures are destined to end poorly (just ask my basil plant from last summer), I cannot shake the optimism that this year might be different—that this year I could grow something beautiful.

Even if I will not be able to grow a flourishing plant, I can bake something beautiful. And really, that might be the most delicious in the end.

This Lime Curd Tart with Coconut Whipped Cream is an ode to spring, with bright green colors and bold new flavors. A lightly sweetened whole wheat tart crust is filled with a tart lime curd and swirled with spoonfuls of coconut whipped cream. Serve with a sprinkling of lime zest and another dollop of whipped cream to celebrate the arrival of sunshine and warmer weather.

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Chocolate Pomegranate Tart

December is riddled with dinner parties and friend and family get-togethers. While I love a good reason to eat great food and spend time with loved ones, there is always pressure on me to bring a fabulous dessert. Truth be told, the largest contributor to the pressure is myself. I want to find a way to outdo myself, to wow the guests with unexpected flavor combinations or an elaborate dish. The baker inside me wants to be a bit of a show-off. However, as time has shown me again and again, the pressure I place on myself to perform tends to backfire.

For Thanksgiving a couple years ago, I created a wonderful caramel pumpkin bread pudding. It took me two attempts to get it right, once because I burned the pudding in the oven and the second because I burned the caramel on the stove. Pressure, it seems, brings about rookie mistakes. One year I attempted to create a meringue cake to share with you on my blog's first birthday. A year and a half later, I haven't recovered from the misfortune that happened in my kitchen (contrary to what my mother may believe, I'm still not ready to discuss it).

This year, I've decided to learn from my past mistakes. While I can't erase the small part of me that wants to create brilliant, impressive desserts, I want to avoid disaster, disappointment, and rushing to the grocery store to grab more ingredients an hour before the event takes place (no one needs that kind of stress). This year, I am planning ahead. It seem like an obvious decision, but I've always been a last minute kind of girl, making the desserts the day or morning ahead and panicking if something goes awry.

I've gotten too good at panicking.

A month ago, my boyfriend convinced me we needed to buy pomegranates. After bringing them home and prying them open, I quickly decided they would be heavenly with a bit of chocolate. It took a bit of convincing for my skeptical boyfriend (and a mouth full of chocolate chips and pomegranate seeds to prove my point), but he ultimately came to the same conclusion. I put this idea on the back burner for the last month, mulling it over and trying to figure out the best presentation. I've always thought pomegranates looked like gems so the last thing I wanted to do was hide them in a dessert.

This Chocolate Pomegranate Tart is the result of all the reflection and, well, reflect it does.

A slice of this Chocolate Pomegranate Tart brings a hint of pomegranate to a decadent chocolate tart. The crust is made with ground almonds, reminding me a bit of sugar cookies. A rich chocolate truffle filling is baked in, setting like a thick custard. The finished tart is glazed with pomegranate juice (thickened to a syrup to strengthen the flavor) and dotted with pomegranate arils. The pomegranate seeds catch the light just so, making this a lovely tart to impress guests.

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Vanilla Bean Cardamom Peach Pie

Long, languid summer afternoons are quickly becoming fond memories as I find myself surrounded by textbooks and a mountain of responsibilities. For many reasons, I wish I could go back to those summer days, despite the heat swells that kept my apartment at a blistering degree. The transition between seasons always feels unexpected to me; no matter how much my brain anticipates its arrival, my body falls into a state of confusion. The hot air from summer days still plagues me as I walk around sweating in a pair of blue jeans and a sweater, questioning why I expected cooler temperatures just because the routines of fall had arrived.

Between the transitions, I get caught between the seasons, wearing skirts in chilled temperatures and turning on the oven when the warmth of summer hasn't gone.

Part of me is still drawn to summer, as I buy fresh berries for my breakfast, purposefully overlooking the rising price of the fruit. I bought my last bag of cherries for the season at the market last week, the moment hitting me unusually hard as I realized summer was truly coming to an end.

My sister, on the other hand, has been ready for fall for the last month. Ahead of the game, her new fall wardrobe has already been purchased, hanging in the closet as she anxiously awaits the temperatures to drop. Perhaps most of all, she has been looking forward to the flavors of autumn. Filling my inbox with pumpkin recipes I must make for her, she can't stop talking about eating her weight in pumpkin cheesecake.

In a way, the two of us complement one another—as I grasp onto the remains of summer, she is fully embracing the spice of fall. Together we are helping each other through the transition of the seasons.

Last weekend, I was trying to find a recipe that reflected this passage of weather and life. The morning was unusually cool and overcast, as I snuggled into the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and warm socks covering my toes. For the first time in months, the temperature had dropped in my apartment and the thought of turning on the oven finally seemed like a perfect idea. After months of looking for no-bake recipes or recipes with limited baking, I missed my oven and the warmth it could bring into bodies and homes.

I turned it on, rolled out pie dough on the counter top, and somewhere along the way this pie took form. The fresh fruit of summer and the spices of fall combine to create a pie for transitions. As if to live up to its purpose, the weather began to clear while the pie cooled on top of the oven. Just as I cut into the first piece, I heard a splash from someone jumping into a nearby pool.

While the weather (or your heart) may be between seasons, this pie will help to bridge the gap, creating a space where you can enjoy a slice of both at precisely the same time.

Vanilla Bean Cardamom Peach Pie is bright and fragrant, with a sugar sprinkled crust to hold in the flavor. Fresh, ripe peaches combine with aromatic cardamom and a hint of vanilla, baking in the oven until the fruit softens and bubbles in its own juices. You may choose to use whichever pie crust recipe you prefer (I've provided a link to my favorite below), but as long as it bakes up golden and flaky, you can do no wrong. Whether you are still longing for summer or waiting to embrace the flavors of fall, this pie will be suited just for you.

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