Shallots of flavour I

The temperatures are slowly lifting, the winds are slightly less ferocious, and all around there’s a tremendous sense of movement in the garden.

The many birds that usually loiter around our feeder are extra busy, whizzing about with beakfuls of twigs, feathers or bits of scratched-off fleece, constructing their summer nests.

The fields are slowly filling with those delightfully crazy little lambs, bouncing and leaping about while their patient mothers get some well-earned rest.

And everywhere, the plant life is stirring. The trees are starting to bud, the grass is showing its first softer flush, and all across the region there’s a shimmer of pink and cream blossom on the cherry trees that have stood bare all through the wet, chilly winter months.

Things are beginning to push through the soil. Spring has sprung, and we are heading for growing season once again.

It’s the time when cooks begin looking forwards to the new crops of native vegetables and fruits, and our appetites tend towards the fresher, lighter dishes that suit the climes.

I know we all eat salads and avocadoes and tomatoes the year round, but at least now we can do so without as much guilt.

All of which leads us to this week’s recipe, a taste of Provence right here on the edge of the Pennines.

It’s something for which I’ve had a hankering for a while, and it happened to fit neatly into my schedule this week.

Sometimes you get a taste for something and nothing will shake it until the craving has been sated. It’s a lovely, simple tart of sweet shallots and tomato, spiked with the saltiness of anchovies, the musk of olives, and a dash of sharp vinegar.

It’s based roughly on the original Tarte Tatin, that copper-bottomed classic of French patisserie, where deeply caramelised apples sit in a wonderful, buttery, flaky pastry case – a sublime and simple combination that takes a fair bit of practice to get right but which hits the spot every time.

This version is a cross between that apple dessert and another legendary French dish, the Pissaladière. It’s one of my very favourite snacks, and is, for me, one of the real treats of warmweather eating.

Invented in Nice during the times of Roman Empire occupation (it’s a very Roman-style dish), Pissaladière is a wonderful combination of olives, onion and salted anchovies, spread thinly on a dough base and baked like a pizza. It was traditionally a breakfast snack, but these days can be eaten any time.

Munched underneath a warm, cloudless sky and helped down with a few glasses of ice-cold Provence rosé, it takes on almost magical properties.

You can make tiny canapé-sized ones, individual starter-sized ones, or whopping great traybakes to be hacked into chunks by your guests. It’s lots of fun.

So, this recipe involves many of the elements of that delicious pissaladière, but turned into a soft, puff pastry tarte of slow-roasted shallots and tomato, served with a scoop of cold, creamy mascarpone studded with basil, olives and popped alongside a few bitter salad leaves, dressed with some of the cooking juices.

The filling can be made a day or so in advance and refrigerated, so it’s a nice easy one to bake for a quick supper of a dinner party first course. Just don’t forget the rosé.

The recipe is for 4 individual tartlets, but you could easily just make one large one to slice into appetising wedges at the table.