I love cobbler. When I was a kid, summer started when my Mommaw pulled the season’s first huge, bubbling, lattice-topped baking dish of peach cobbler out of the oven. She would let me eat it as hot as I could stand it, with a huge scoop (or two) of Breyers Natural Vanilla. And when I spent the night at her house, instead of oatmeal or scrambled eggs or Shredded Wheat, she’d let me eat peach cobbler for breakfast, saying, “It’s got all the food groups: fruit, flour, and fat.”

So, I bent the rules a little on this week’s Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, mixed berry cobbler, chosen by Beth of Our Sweet Life. I used Dorie’s filling (five cups of frozen berries, plus sugar, lemon zest, and cornstarch), but instead of her biscuit topping, I substituted my grandmother’s pie crust on the top and bottom. It gave me an excuse to try a lattice top for the first time. And it will make an excellent breakfast.

It’s too hot. For complete sentences. Sleeves. Maybe breathing.

Perfect weather for a fruit tart.

Unlike the wholesome, humble, “American-as” pie, the tart isn’t afraid to show off her goods. You wouldn’t catch a tart dead in a fussy lattice cover-up or quaint maple-leaf border. Tarts go topless. They’re bold. Confident. Hard-wired for a good time.

A pie will pay your bail. A tart will sit with you in jail and say, “Wasn’t THAT fun?”

This week’s Tuesdays with Dorie challenge is another one of Dorie Greenspan’s French favorites, La Palette’s Strawberry Tart.

The recipe is easy. Start with Dorie’s Sweet Tart Dough. While the crust is in the oven, grab a quart of strawberries and slice them into halves or quarters. Toss them with sugar, and add any extra flavorings you’d like. (Dorie suggests a splash of liqueur and a turn of freshly ground black pepper.)

Once the crust has cooled, spread it with a generous layer of strawberry jam, and top each slice with a tumbling spoonful of berries and a dollop of whipped cream or creme fraiche. Don’t worry about the berries falling off the crust. It’s not messy; it’s carefree.

As other fruits come in season, you can adapt this tart to other crust-filling-fruit combinations. Blueberries and pastry cream. Peaches and mascarpone. Raspberries and Nutella. Sautéed apple slices and caramel. Pears and ricotta. Feel free to mix-and-match.

If it’s true that we are what we eat, then by the time you finish a slice of Dorie’s strawberry tart, you’ll feel a little more relaxed. A little juicier. Two slices, and you’ll feel ripe and unruly. It’s mid-June. If you’re still wearing pantyhose, the tart says to stop.

We took these French Chocolate Brownies to a “Lost” season finale party Thursday night, and it’s a good thing the room was dark, so no one noticed exactly how many I wolfed down.

I needed something to supplement our dinner, which was a menu of Things That Are Difficult If Not Impossible For Me To Eat In Public. We’re talking corn-on-the-cob, which makes me obsess about my teeth. I think there’s something stuck between them. Can he see it? Maybe if I drink some water. Nope. Where’s a mirror? Maybe I can just keep my mouth shut all night. Is that a kernel?

And there were vegetables that had to be sliced with a knife.

Remember that scene in “Pretty Woman” where Julia Roberts tries to shuck an oyster and winds up hurling it across the restaurant? That’s me. That’s why I like to order things that stay put, like taters.

Anyway, I made a meal of these brownies. The crackly top adds a little texture to an otherwise completely moist, melt-in-your-mouth, fudgy brownie. Perfect for picnics, parties, and corn malfunctions.

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My nephew, Jack, is rocking in my dad’s recliner when Henry the Wonderdog launches over the armrest and licks the tip of Jack’s nose.

“HENRY TRIED TO BITE ME!”

We tell him nooooooo, Henry was just trying to kiss him.

“HENRY KISSED ME!”

I tell him he should feel special, because Henry doesn’t go around kissing everyone. This doesn’t help.

Finally, Jack asks for the only thing that will take away the pain.

“Are we having pie?”

This week’s Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, Peanut Butter Torte, is pie taken to the extreme–big flavors in ridiculous quantities–and it’s illegal in states that frown on The Devil’s Threesome: Oreos, peanut butter, and cream cheese. There’s also butter. Ganache. Chopped peanuts. If I didn’t know it was a Dorie recipe, I’d swear Emeril. This is a recipe that goes over the top, then takes a hot air balloon and a rocket.

So, how is it?

Straight out of the fridge, it softens fast, gets hard to slice, and the peanut butter-cream cheese filling has an odd twang to it that makes two bites plenty. I divided it into Rubbermaids, shoved it in the freezer, and forgot about it for a few days.

Put it in the freezer. Seriously. The texture and flavor are much, much better. The filling mellows and becomes more like ice cream. Frozen, it’s Jack-worthy.

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The grass. It’s high.

It’s grown past “maybe they’re on vacation” to “maybe we could have the front yard declared a wildlife preserve.”

What brought us to this shameful state? Stomach flu. Sinus infections. And a push mower that spontaneously combusted after two rows. Two horizontal rows right in front of the house. It looks like we cut a path with a machete. Or tethered a baby goat to the front door.

But finally, after days of scratchy throats and sniffling, we woke up with the amazing ability to breathe through both nostrils, for which we are truly grateful. And we probably have Dorie’s Most Extraordinary French Lemon Cream Tart to thank. Benadryl didn’t work. Sudafed didn’t work. But juicing five lemons–that worked.

The tart, like our yard, has room for improvement. The crumbly, shortbread-cookie crust would be even better with ground macadamia nuts and maybe a little shredded coconut. And the lemon cream is so pungent, I wish I’d topped it with a little whipped cream. Because what this recipe needs is more dairy fat.

As for the lawn, we were feeling so good last night, we bought a new push mower. Right now, it’s all potential, but as soon as I get my sneakers on, the hobbits in the front yard better run for cover.

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