This Easy Lemon Tart Has a Time-Saving Twist

One August, when I was 10 years old and on vacation with my family in a town in Provence, we decided to try lemon cakes from all the pastry shops within a 20 minute drive. Every day, we collected our sample to rigorously evaluate its merits and flaws. Was the dough as crisp and crumbly as a cookie? Was the curd silky smooth, yet strong enough to make you squint before the buttery sweetness hit?

This recipe meets those criteria and more, and even features a time-saving setting. Instead of a classic pie crust, which needs a rolling pin and all your patience, I use a foolproof, pan-slide crust made with melted butter. It’s so easy to make and bakes up as crisp as a shortbread cookie, but is thin enough that there’s plenty of room for the lemon curd filling.

Aside from being easy, melted butter has one surprising advantage. Cook until the frothy white milk solids fall to the bottom of the pan, and the fat turns amber and smells like hazelnuts. The resulting brown butter crust may not be traditional, but its caramel flavor is the perfect complement to the bright, tangy curds.

The only tricky part here is baking it long enough. Because the curd is first cooked on the stovetop, it only needs a few minutes in the oven to help it set into the crust. Shake the pan gently: when the tart is done, the center should move, but the edges stay in place. The center will settle as it cools.

However, do not rush the cooling time. The baked tart needs at least two hours to rest. If, even after that, the curd still looks a bit runny, store it in the fridge for an hour or two to set before slicing.

The crust will remain at its crispiest when you serve it on the day you bake the pie. But it’s almost as heavenly (if a bit smoother) a day or two later. Store it in the fridge and eat it cold, or let it come to room temperature. It is excellent in both ways.

Lemon tarts do not need any type of accompaniment, such as ice cream or whipped cream. A sublime yellow wedge is enough on its own, perhaps paired with an espresso, though my 10-year-old inner child still craves a glass of cold milk and dreams of sun-drenched Provencal afternoons.