Was the tarte Tatin really the result of an accident in the
kitchen? Did Caroline and Stéphanie
create something truly original or did they appropriate knowledge and practices
that were commonplace in Sologne at the time?
These weighty questions have long stirred up the community of tarte
Tatin fanatics.
One intriguing clue comes from a note at the end of Marie
Souchon's recipe that reads: "This recipe was invented by the cook of the
Count of Chateauvillard, who passed it on to Fanny Tatin." Research has confirmed the existence of the
Count, who was born in 1827 into a wealthy Parisian family. He devoted most of
his life to the enjoyment and promotion of water sports, while living off his
inheritance. One finds him in
Lamotte-Beuvron in 1872 when he purchases the château de Tracy, a 75-acre
estate about 3 miles from town. He owned
it for five years. Of his cook, sadly,
nothing is known. The Count died in 1880 without an heir or close
relative. Did his cook join the hotel
staff after his demise? Did she meet
Fanny during the Count's sojourns at his château? Where did the cook find the inspiration for
her recipe? These questions may never be answered.
Other scholars have pointed out that upside-down tartes have
long been a specialty of the Sologne
region. There are references to a
"tarte solognote", which may have been a forerunner of the tarte
Tatin, but the documentation supporting these claims is thin. What can be found are contemporaneous recipes
and drawings of apple cobblers, which, have curiously disappeared from French
menus and cookbooks. Was the tarte Tatin
a derivative of the cobbler, perhaps cooked on a stove and under a "four
de campagne". Did Fanny notice the
tendency for apples at the bottom to caramelize? Did the crust burn one day, and she turned
the thing upside down to make it more presentable?
Innovation in the kitchen, as in many other areas, is a
cumulative process. One does not sit at
a table to create a new masterpiece from scratch. Such an approach seldom produces anything
memorable. Food innovation results
instead from the alchemy between ancestral knowledge, local produce, and the
cook's talent. There was no tarte Tatin
before the demoiselles. There were
cobblers, perhaps a "tarte solognote" to take advantage of local
fruit, as well as other dishes to accommodate the bounty of the land. The sisters never set out to create a
"signature dish". They never even called it Tarte Tatin. That recognition was bestowed upon them by
Curnonsky and Maxim's after their death. They just focused on making the best
possible tarte, using mostly apples, but also other fruits such as pears, which
abound in the region. They never
bothered to write a cookbook, or publish their recipe, but they shared it
generously with appreciative friends and clients. They slowly perfected their tarte during the
1880s and 1890s, helped by their cooks and the local community, which provided
feedback and tips. I would argue that this process has continued after their
death and to this day. The tarte Tatin
we eat today, when it is properly made, is most likely better than the
sisters'. It is the result of an
on-going collective creation that rests on the foundation laid down by Fanny
and Caroline. Rather than argue whether they borrowed from the past, we should
celebrate them for leveraging that past into something truly original that
celebrates Sologne and continues to live and enchant the world a century after
their death.
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