Bakewell Tart with Frangipane and Raspberry

The Bakewell tart is a small national argument dressed up as pudding. There is the tart, with its layer of set almond frangipane over jam on crisp pastry, and there is the older Bakewell pudding, a wobbly, eggy, puff-pastry thing that the Derbyshire town insists is the only true version. Then there is the cherry-topped Cherry Bakewell that most of us met first, iced and glace-cherried and sold in packs of six. I love all three, but the tart is the one worth making at home, and my one small change is to toast the ground almonds before they go into the frangipane, which deepens the whole thing into something warmer and rounder.

The pudding that started an argument

The story goes that the Bakewell pudding was born of a happy mistake at the White Horse Inn in Bakewell, Derbyshire, sometime in the early nineteenth century, when a flustered cook misread instructions and spread the egg-and-almond mixture over the jam instead of stirring it into the pastry. The result was so good it stuck. Whether or not that tale is true, and food historians are politely sceptical, the town has several shops that each claim the original recipe, and the Bakewell pudding remains a distinct thing: an open case of puff pastry, a layer of jam, and a rich, almost custardy almond-and-egg topping that sets to a wobble rather than a sponge.

The Bakewell tart is the tidier, more portable descendant that spread across Britain in the twentieth century. It swaps the puff for shortcrust and the custardy top for a firmer frangipane, an almond sponge-cream that slices cleanly and travels well in a lunchbox. Frangipane itself is a French preparation with a fine pedigree, named after a Renaissance Italian nobleman whose perfumed gloves supposedly inspired the almond scent, and it turns up across European baking in tarts and galettes. If you have made the almond filling for a clementine and almond cake, flourless, you already understand how forgiving and generous ground almonds are to work with.

Why toasting the almonds matters

Ground almonds straight from the packet are mild and a little flat, and a frangipane built on them tastes pleasant and slightly one-note. Toasting them first, in a dry pan until they smell nutty and turn the colour of pale straw, wakes them up completely. The gentle heat drives off some moisture and starts a light Maillard browning on the almond proteins, generating the same toasty, popcorn-and-praline aromas you get from roasting any nut. Stir them into the frangipane and the finished tart has a deeper, more grown-up almond flavour that stands up to the sharp raspberry beneath. Cool them fully before they meet the butter, though, because warm almonds will slacken the creamed mixture and knock the air out of it.

Getting the pastry crisp

The enemy of a good tart is a soggy bottom, and a raspberry-jam-and-frangipane filling is a wet one, so the pastry needs help. Blind-baking the case until it is genuinely dry and pale gold sets a sealed, crisp shell that resists the moisture from above. Chilling the rolled case before it bakes relaxes the gluten and firms the butter, which stops the sides slumping down the tin as they cook. A thin, even layer of jam rather than a thick pool keeps the interface between fruit and pastry from turning to sludge. The same care rewards you in any filled tart, and the crisp-shortcrust principle carries straight over to a Battenberg with marzipan and apricot jam, where a firm structure lets the almond flavour shine.

Flaked almonds or icing

This is where the family argument flares up again. The traditional Bakewell tart is finished with a scatter of flaked almonds that toast in the oven to a golden crunch, giving a plainer, more elegant tart that leans on the almond and jam. The Cherry Bakewell version wears a smooth white water-icing and a single glace cherry, sweeter and more nostalgic, the one that tastes of childhood packed lunches. Both are correct, and the recipe above gives you either. If you ice it, leave the flaked almonds off and let the tart cool completely first, or the icing will slide off the warm surface. A whisper of almond extract in the icing ties it back to the filling.

Make-ahead, storage and variations

A Bakewell tart is an excellent keeper and arguably better on day two, once the frangipane has settled and the flavours have married. It keeps for four days in an airtight tin at room temperature and freezes well, whole or in slices, for up to two months. Serve it just warm with a spoonful of thick cream or, my preference, cold with a strong cup of tea in the afternoon. For variations, swap the raspberry jam for cherry to nod at the Cherry Bakewell, or for damson or apricot for a different sharpness. A layer of fresh raspberries pressed into the jam before the frangipane goes on gives bright bursts of fruit through the almond sponge, and the same trick works with a Viennese whirls with raspberry and buttercream sensibility of jam-meets-almond. A little finely grated lemon zest in the frangipane lifts the whole tart with a clean citrus edge, and a spoonful of amaretto folded through the mixture deepens the almond even further for a grown-up version. However you choose to finish it, the toasted almonds underneath do the quiet, essential work of turning a good tart into a memorable one.