FFwD: Pissaladiere

I in no way hold the unfortunate outcome of my Pissaladiere (pg 45 of Around My French Table) against the recipe, or against pissaladieres around the world. In case you're wondering what the hell a pissaladiere is, it's a thin-crusted dough smeared with caramelized onions, anchovies, and olives. In Nice, I'd give one a try without thinking twice. In my kitchen, everything that could go wrong, did.

I first suspected something was up when I opened the tin of anchovies. It looked like cat food. In the photo in the book, there are long, solid lengths of anchovy laced across the onions. I looked back at my tin, and found it impossible to separate a single fish from its friends. It was one mushy mass. I figured that would save me the step of chopping the anchovies, and dumped them in with my onions. As promised, they dissolved into the onion. It smelled awfully fishy, though, and when I tried an onion, it left a very unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth.

Yum. Please ignore the weird stains on my windowsill. I just noticed that.

My aunt, via facebook, saved the day, as much as the day could be saved. A fan of pissaladiere, she said:
A) She hoped I didn't use the little sardine type tins of anchovy, but the better kind that come in jars. Woops. I bought the tin that cost 20 cents more than the one next to it, figuring they were better. Ha!
B) If the onions tasted too fishy, rinse them off, dry them well, and sautee them again with lemon juice and brown sugar. I did, and the onions were muuuuuch better. Phew! Disaster averted. Right? Wrong.

My dough didn't rise. I don't know why. I baked a bread using this yeast last weekend, and it was fine, so I don't think bad yeast was the problem. I put the dough in the garage, which is warmer than the house. Maybe it wasn't warm enough. It cooled down to the mid-70s here this week. I thought that would be warm enough. Beats me. All I know is my dough was pretty much the same exact size two hours later.

Then, Charlie started having a clingy fit about ten minutes before the buzzer was set to ring. Matt said he'd do what needed doing. I told him that when the buzzer rang, throw the olives on top, then bake it for five more minutes. At the end of those five minutes, the onions had burned and the dough had turned into a too-dark cracker. Matt told me after the fact that it looked done to him before he put the olives on, but I told him to bake it another five minutes, so he did. Urge to kill RISING.

Anyway, we ate a few bites. Matt heated up leftover pad thai. I finished my glass of wine and called it a night.

I would try this one again if I could find the right kind of anchovy. I don't hold anything against the concept. This Dorie disaster was my own doing. Onward!