I must have suffered some sort of carbohydrate-related trauma as a child. Did an evil babysitter wrap me up in a puff pastry and stick me in the oven? Was I left in the woods with only bread crumbs to guide me home? Or perhaps I was frightened by the premature exploding of a can of Pillsbury breakfast rolls. I can't really say for sure.
But I do know that after years of shying away from working with dough - "I'll mess it up! I'll ruin it!" was my panicked refrain - I have suddenly - and incurably - become absolutely tart-y for making savory tarts.
