The galette takes its name from the pebble it’s said to resemble – as Elizabeth David observes, it takes many forms, all of them round and flat. For me the word conjures the buckwheat pancakes of Brittany while French friends, in a quick straw poll, tend to think first of the frangipane-stuffed puff pastry galette de rois served at Epiphany, with one vote for a buttery Breton biscuit.
Ask the English-language internet, however, and you’ll be served what is more commonly known as a tart(e), more specifically a charmingly rustic, free-form version which doesn’t require a tin. Though Anne Willan references prune and apple three-tier galette pies from the Pyrenees in her 1981 classic French Regional Cooking, and David includes a yeasted version that sounds more like a cobbler in French Provincial Cooking, most fruit galette recipes I find seem to be American. My hunch is that Alice Waters’ tradition of a daily seasonal galette at Chez Panisse may have popularised the name across the pond, but the general idea never needed upselling. As a quick and easy way to turn a punnet of fruit into a dessert, it’s hard to beat, whatever you call it.
