Easy Strawberry Galette

jonashton
Jun 23
6 min read

Strawberry Galette, Dusty Footpaths, and a Whisper of Summer

Years after pulling up the old strawberry bed, the occasional, stubborn plant still finds its way through a crack in the path—poking up like an old friend returning uninvited but not unwelcome, teasing me gently about my decision. I admire their persistence. There’s something defiant in their little crowns of green, something quietly heroic. I let them be, of course—plucking the ruby fruit when it ripens, still warm from the sun, and popping it into my mouth before the blackbirds can stake their claim. The skin gives way with a sigh, and for a moment, I’m back in a childhood garden where everything good came with dirt under the fingernails. Strawberries, for all their sun-warmed promise, can be masters of deception. Their perfume—heady, floral, almost overripe in the afternoon heat—lures you in, but too often the taste doesn't quite live up to the scent. A whisper of disappointment on the tongue. And so, I coax them gently. A squeeze of orange juice brings them into the light; a flicker of balsamic draws out their darker tones. Just the tiniest grind of black pepper can surprise you, like the faintest note of spice on a lover’s skin.

I hadn’t gathered quite enough to make a galette. The bowl, though fragrant, was half-empty. So I made my way to Morning Glory Farm, the screen door creaking behind me, dust rising in little puffs beneath my sandals. The air was thick with the scent of earth and herbs and strawberries so ripe their sweetness seems to hang visibly in the air.

I left with a punnet cradled in my hands like something precious. The fruit was still cool from the farm stand fridge, the surface slightly dimpled, a little sticky where one berry had burst. Honest, sun-kissed, imperfect—just the way summer intended.

If you ever find yourself on Martha’s Vineyard at this time of year, do stop by Morning Glory Farm. You’ll find strawberries worth the journey. The kind you can smell before you see, and taste before you swallow.

What Is a Strawberry Galette, and Why Does It Smell So Irresistibly Like Home?

A strawberry galette is the country cousin of the fancy French tart—unfussy, delightfully imperfect, and all the better for it. Imagine this: buttery pastry folded loosely around strawberries so ripe they almost melt, their ruby juices escaping in little rivulets that caramelize where they meet the crust. The smell is outrageous—jammy, sun-warmed, and just the right side of scandalous.

Galettes are the kind of dessert you throw together with one eye on the clock and the other on the bowl of slightly squishy berries you forgot about. They reward you with something that feels—and tastes—miraculously more thoughtful than it actually is.

A Brief (and Slightly Juicy) History of the Galette

The word “galette” comes from the French galet, meaning a smooth, flat pebble—which, oddly enough, is how the pastry should look before you fold it up around the fruit. These rustic free-form tarts were historically baked by peasants who didn’t have fancy fluted tins or the time to faff with pastry weights. Bless them. Their laziness is our gain.

The galette is proof that food needn’t be perfect to be beautiful. It's the edible version of tousled hair and linen shirts—effortlessly chic, even when it looks like it just rolled out of bed.

Why Chefs Love Strawberry Galettes (Hint: It’s Not Just About the Fruit)

Professional chefs adore a strawberry galette not only for its flavor but also for its flexibility. It’s the kind of dessert that allows seasonal fruit to shine and lets pastry be the crisp, golden cradle it was born to be. And let’s be honest—there’s something deeply satisfying about serving a dessert that looks like it came straight from a French farmhouse, even if you made it in a Manhattan shoebox kitchen.

Cooking tip from the pros: Macérate your strawberries. Toss them in a little sugar and let them sit for half an hour. They’ll release their juices, deepen in flavor, and you’ll avoid a soggy-bottomed galette. And no one likes a soggy bottom.

Sensory Heaven: What a Strawberry Galette Tastes, Smells, and Feels Like

Take one bite and it’s all there—the crunch of the golden, sugared crust giving way to fruit that’s still slightly warm, its flavor somewhere between jam and summer rain. The scent is a heady mix of butter, vanilla, and berries caught at their prime. And the feel of it—held still-warm in the hand, flaky pastry crumbling at the edges—is like a love letter you didn’t expect to receive.

Eat it barefoot in the garden if you can. Or in bed with the curtains drawn and cream in a jug.

Fun Facts About Strawberry Galettes (Because You Can Impress While You Bake)

Galettes are naturally Instagrammable. Their rustic edges and bubbling fruit are what the internet dreams of—no filters needed.
Strawberries were once considered an aphrodisiac. So yes, technically, your galette is seductive.
You can make them sweet or savory. Strawberry and goat cheese? Strawberry with a whisper of thyme? Go on, be bold.
No tart pan? No problem. The galette laughs in the face of structured bakeware. Just roll, fold, and bake.
Great for imperfect fruit. Those slightly bruised berries at the bottom of the punnet? Perfect for a galette. It’s a dessert that believes in second chances.

Tips for the Perfect Strawberry Galette (Without Losing Your Mind)

Use cold butter. It gives you that flaky, sigh-worthy pastry.
Don’t overfill. It’s a tart, not a fruit avalanche.
Leave a good border. About 2 inches is ideal. Fold it gently and pinch to seal. Think origami, but hungrier.
Brush the crust. A little reserved strawberry juice or egg wash makes the whole thing glisten. Like lip gloss for pastry.
Bake until bubbling. The fruit should look like it’s singing.

Final Thoughts: Why I’ll Always Make One More Galette

Here’s the thing, friend. A strawberry galette isn’t just dessert—it’s a memory in the making. It’s what you bake when the strawberries are singing, the pastry is cold, and there’s a slant of golden afternoon light on your kitchen counter. It’s messy and fragrant and a little bit magic.

Serve it with cream. Or yogurt. Or nothing at all but a fork and a soft chair. And when someone asks, “Did you make that?”—you can smile and say, “Oh, it’s just a galette.” As if it weren’t the most wonderful thing in the world.

Ingredients:

Crust:

150g (1¼ cups) all-purpose flour

1g (¼ teaspoon) fine sea salt

113g (8 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes

60g (¼ cup) ice water, plus more if needed Filling:

680g (1½ pounds) strawberries, hulled and halved if small, quartered if large (about 5 cups)

50g (¼ cup + 1 tablespoon) sugar, divided

80ml (⅓ cup) strawberry jam

1½ tablespoons cornstarch

¼ teaspoon table salt

INSTRUCTIONS:

In a food processor, combine the flour and salt with a brief pulse—just enough to marry the two. Scatter the cold cubes of butter over the top, then pulse again until the mixture resembles coarse sand. You’re looking for butter the size of small peas—nothing too fussy, but distinct.

Add the ice water and pulse a few more times until the dough begins to form small, damp curds. It should hold together when pinched, but resist the urge to overwork it.

Tip the mixture onto a lightly floured surface and gather it into a rough rectangle, about 30cm long and 10cm wide. Now, using the heel of your hand, gently smear the dough forward in small sections—this is called fraisage, and it encourages those heavenly flaky layers. Repeat the process once more, gathering and smearing again until the dough holds together in a shaggy but cohesive mass.

Shape it into a 15cm disc, wrap tightly in cling film, and refrigerate for at least an hour. It will keep for up to two days in the fridge or a month in the freezer. If frozen, let it thaw gently on the counter before using.

One hour before you intend to roll out the dough, toss the strawberries with ¼ cup of sugar and leave them to macerate in a bowl. Their juices will begin to pool, and the scent will fill the room with summer. After an hour, drain them in a colander set in the sink. Set aside 1 tablespoon of the juice—this will later gild the crust with a touch of shine and scent.

To Assemble and Bake

Preheat your oven to 190°C (375°F) and set a rack in the lower-middle position. Line a baking sheet with parchment.

Roll the chilled dough into a rough 30cm circle on a lightly floured surface, then transfer to the prepared sheet. Loosely cover with plastic wrap and chill again for about 10 minutes, just to let it firm up.

Meanwhile, whisk together the strawberry jam, cornstarch, and salt in a large bowl. Add the drained berries and gently toss to coat—be kind to them; they bruise easily.

Pile the fruit into the centre of the dough, leaving a generous 5cm border. Fold the edges inward, pleating as you go, so that the galette forms its beautiful, rustic crown. Pinch the folds gently to hold them together, but don’t press them too tightly against the fruit.

Brush the folded crust with the reserved strawberry juice and sprinkle the entire galette—crust and filling—with the remaining tablespoon of sugar.

Bake for 60 to 70 minutes, or until the crust is a deep golden bronze and the fruit is bubbling like a cauldron of ruby syrup. Let the galette cool on the sheet for 10 minutes, then, using the parchment, carefully slide it onto a wire rack. Remove the parchment and allow it to cool until just warm, about 30 minutes.