The Butter Tart Recipe

Everyone in Kingston agreed that Mr. Ferreira's corner store sold the best butter tarts in the city. They were small and golden, with a crisp, flaky pastry and a filling that was sweet but not too sweet, and just a little runny in the middle. People drove from Belleville and Brockville to buy them. On Saturday mornings, the line went out of the door and down Maple Street.

The recipe had belonged to Mr. Ferreira's mother-in-law, a woman from Prince Edward County who had baked for church sales for sixty years. It was written by hand on an old index card, and Mr. Ferreira kept it in a metal box behind the counter. He had never shown it to anybody except his wife and his daughter, who helped him bake.

So when Dev came running up Nora's porch steps one Tuesday in October with a paper bag in his hand, Nora knew from his face that something was wrong.

"Taste this," he said, out of breath.

Nora took the butter tart from the bag and bit into it. She stopped chewing. She looked at Dev.

"That's Mr. Ferreira's tart."

"No, it isn't," said Dev. "That's from Golden Crumb. The new bakery on Princess Street. It opened last week. They charge five dollars for one. And there's a sign in the window: Our famous old family recipe."

Nora finished the tart slowly. It was perfect. It was exactly the same, down to the little bit of vanilla that nobody else in Kingston used.

"Does Mr. Ferreira know?"

"I think somebody told him this morning," said Dev. "He's closed the store. He never closes the store."