lemon curd bars "cockaigne"

lemon bar

So you know how in The Joy of Cooking, there are all these recipes with the word "cockaigne" at the end?  Brownies Cockaigne, Coffee Cake Poppyseed Filling Cockaigne, Creamed Eggs and Asparagus Cockaigne.  [NOTE: If you have no idea what I'm talking about you probably don't own The Joy of Cooking.  This is a crime against culinary nature.  I command you to stop reading this blog immediately and go out and buy a copy.  This essential cookbook, written by Irma Rombauer and illustrated by her daughter, Marion Rombauer Becker, was originally published in 1931 as Irma, a St. Louis housewife, was struggling to stay afloat financially after her husband's death.  It is required reading for owning a kitchen, people.  Or even for us poor slobs who just rent a kitchen.  What other cookbook gives recipes for everything from cornmeal mush to sole meuniere?  Every section begins with a basic lesson on the essentials of cooking that particular category of food, and some of my best culinary secrets have been gleaned from reading these chapter heading lessons.  They even have a chapter on setting the table for every occasion from casual picnic to formal banquet, and on page 454 there are directions for preparing and cooking A BEAR.  I'm not kidding.] 

Anyway, I was always like, what the heck is with this Cockaigne they keep naming all the recipes after?  Why are they obsessed with Cockaigne?  Maybe they're snorting Cockaigne.  [Seriously, stop reading and go buy The Joy of Cooking, right now.  You need it.  Really.]  Once, in a fit of curiousity, I looked up Cockaigne in the American Heritage Dictionary.  It is defined as " An imaginary land of easy and luxurious living."  Umm.... OK, so they're saying this fruitcake recipe evokes a nation of laziness and gluttony, hmmm.  On the Wikipedia page for Cockaigne, they quote a 13th century French poem called The Land of Cockaigne where "the houses were made of barley sugar and cakes, the streets were paved with pastry, and the shops supplied goods for nothing."  All right, now I understand a little better, they're saying the fruitcake could be used to pave the streets in a socialist Candyland?

Finally I found the true answer by just looking up Cockaigne in the index to the cookbook, which directed me to the foreword.  Apparently Cockaigne is the name of Marion's husband's family's country home in Ohio (apparently Ohio is the Hamptons of St. Louis??), and she used this name to denote her favorite recipes of the volume.  Well, that was kind of anticlimactic.

Still, it didn't stop me from trying these utopian lemon bars.  After all, supreme foodie Amanda Hesser served these at her engagement party.  The Meyer lemon-obsessed Hesser publishes this recipe in Cooking for Mr. Latte, where she offers an adaptation for using her favorite gourmet lemons: simply use 1/2 cup less sugar for the lemon curd topping.  It takes about 5 regular or 8 Meyer lemons to generate the whopping 1 cup and 2 tablespoons juice needed for the recipe.  Why not just buy extra just in case and use the leftovers to make some lemon-pistachio pesto!

Instructions:
Position a rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 325F. Have ready a 13x9 baking pan.

Sift together into a large bowl 1 1/2 cups of flour and 1/4 cup of sugar. Toss in the cubes of butter. Using a pastry blender, two knives, or your fingertips, cut in the butter until the mixture is the size of small peas. (I used my fingers.  Amanda Hesser recommends a "small pinching motion.") 

Using your fingers, press the mixture into the bottom of the pan and 3/4 inch up the sides to avoid leaking during baking. (Don't worry if it seems like you don't have enough crust at first - just keep on pressing it until it thins out enough to cover the entire bottom of the pan.)  Bake until golden brown, 20-30 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly.

Reduce the oven temperature to 300F. Whisk together eggs and 3 cups of sugar until well combined. Stir in lemon zest and lemon juice. Sift 1/2 cup of flour over the top and stir in until well blended and smooth.

Pour batter over the baked crust. Bake until set, about 35 minutes. Remove the pan to a rack to cool completely before cutting into bars.

Makes about 18 3x2 inch bars.