There is never not room for Crostata. You will find it, you will make it, you will lie, because you know you're going to eat it anyway.
And after you eat it, your slice and the remains of someone else's slice, you will find yourself picking at the shattery, sugared folds that hold in (and sometimes don't) the pile of lightly sweetened fruit - in this case, blueberries, tossed with just enough sugar, cornstarch, lemon zest and a pinch of cinnamon. I make crostatas all the time, based on Ina Garten's master recipe, but recently began subbing in Martha's recipe for Patee Brisee for the pastry, because it always turns out the flakiest, crispiest, most buttery crust and who wants to mess that up? Maybe your least favorite cousin. He broke the TV once, he'll fuck your crostata up too, no doubt.
Remember how good you thought Blueberry Pop Tarts would taste? And they always did, too, for the first few bites and then the artificial flavoring began to overwhelm and do that thing where you're tasting through your nose and the back of your throat instead of your tongue, like when you inhale perfume - they would suddenly begin to taste like Strawberry Shortcake dolls smelled, and the long-fought for treat you begged your mom to buy was never the same again.
So make this to make up for those - the crust recipe makes enough for two small, proper crostatas, but I usually make one larger one, and save the remaining for a smaller dessert, or a tiny pie or quiche. Do what you want, because it will always turn out well.
(In homage to Ina, adapted from Martha - the lemon zest and cinnamon are all her)
4 or 5 cups, depending on size, frozen or fresh blueberries (Test for sweetness and ripeness, use your
favorite kind, wild or domestic it doesn't matter as long as they taste
outstanding and are juicy-ripe)
Zest of one lemon
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar
Seeds of half a vanilla bean, split and scraped
2 Tablespoons cornstarch
2 1/2 cups AP flour
2 sticks (1 cup) frozen unsalted butter, diced/cubed
1/4 to 1/2 cup ice water
2 Tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2-3 hours (or the day before) you plan to make the Crostata: Make the dough. In the bowl of a food processor, dump the flour, sugar and salt and pulse once. Then add the butter and pulse 8 times, or just until the butter has divided itself 2 times or so, from it's cubed state. Then add the water, and I always end up using 1/2 a cup or more and it has never once hurt my dough, especially on overcast days, and pulse just until it pulls away from the sides of the bowl. Turn out onto a lightly floured counter - the dough should not be sticky, wet, or pull at your fingertips - rather a pile of buttery crumbles. It should 'go' together easily, though, and form into two piles - one a little larger than the other, depending on your desired Crostata size, or both equal. Flatten into discs, and slide into ziploc bags, sealing well. Chill for at least 2 hours.
Now you're ready to roll: flour the counter again, and roll your dough out into a rough circle or oval - I usually make mine around 12-14 inches wide, using 2/3rds of the dough. Fold in half, then in half again, and move to an ungreased, light-colored half-sheet pan that you've lined with parchment if you're a proper person, I am not but so (you want something with a lip, because leakage happens. We can talk about it), unfold and then get to work.
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F. In a large bowl, mix together blueberries, sugar, cornstarch, salt, lemon zest and cinnamon. That is it. Mound in the center of the rolled-out dough, and fold up the edges, letting them overlap slightly and pressing down lightly to seal the seams. Using a pastry brush, dab cold water over the pastry and generously sprinkle with sugar.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, until pastry is golden brown, filling is juicy, bubbly and thickened and the house smells amazing. Remove from oven, let cool at least 20 minutes, and serve warm or room temperature with scoops of vanilla ice cream. The leftovers are the best breakfast you've ever had.