That Time Carrots Became the Star—Not Just for Bunnies

Look, I’ll be real—I didn’t even like carrots that much as a kid. My mum used to sneak them into shepherd’s pie or try to pass off raw sticks as a ‘treat,’ but honestly… no. Fast forward a few decades (plus a few sketchy carrot cake attempts that no one mentions anymore), and I’ve come to love carrots—especially in this carrot tart with green goddess ricotta. It’s kind of like when you finally realise your quiet friend from school is secretly hilarious, you know? This tart is crazy colourful, a bit rustic (my style!), and surprisingly forgiving for those nights when your pastry’s being stubborn or you’re distracted by the dog chasing its tail around the kitchen. Anyway, let’s get started!

Why You’ll Love This Tart (Or at Least Forgive Its Flaws!)

I make this whenever I want something that looks way more complicated than it is. My family goes absolutely wild for it—my husband will even eat it cold from the fridge, which is… slightly alarming, but hey, less for me to clean up! It’s great because you only need a handful of carrots and whatever pastry you have. Oh, and the green goddess ricotta? You can make it as herby or lemony as you want (sometimes when I’m feeling lazy, I barely blitz it at all and it’s still amazing). If you ever made a savory tart that turned out soggy or sad, I promise, this one’s a winner, no dramas.

Here’s What You’ll Need (Swap Freely!)

1 sheet puff pastry (I use all-butter if I’m fancy; any frozen kind works though)
5-6 medium carrots, peeled and sliced thin on a diagonal (I’ve even used leftover roasted carrots in a pinch—game changer!)
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 cup ricotta cheese (My grandmother swore by Galbani; pretty sure store brand is just fine)
1/4 cup fresh parsley, roughly chopped (or swap in basil/cilantro if that’s what you have)
2 tablespoons fresh chives, snipped (I’ve totally used spring onions or even a bit of leek before)
2 tablespoons fresh dill (optional but it makes it taste super fresh—if you’re out, skip it)
Zest and juice of 1/2 a lemon (If I only have a lime, I use that and apologise to no one!)
1 small garlic clove, minced (Or use 1/4 tsp garlic powder—I won’t judge)
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 egg, beaten (for brushing the pastry; sometimes I just use milk if I run out)

Let’s Get Cooking (No Need for Perfection)

First, preheat your oven to 200C (400F) and line a baking sheet with parchment—unless you forget, which I sometimes do. Just butter the tray and hope for the best if that happens.
Roll out the puff pastry a little to smooth the creases. Transfer to your prepared sheet. Use a sharp knife to lightly score a 1cm border, but don’t cut all the way through. Helps the edges puff up, which feels a bit like kitchen magic.
Toss your sliced carrots with olive oil, salt, and pepper. I just do this in a big bowl—some days I use my hands, but a spoon works if you don’t mind chasing the carrots around.
Spread the carrots out on a baking tray and roast for 12-15 minutes, just until they start to soften and get a bit golden. (If you like, roast them while the oven heats up, doesn’t matter much.)
While carrots are roasting, dump ricotta, parsley, chives, dill, lemon zest & juice, garlic, and sea salt into a food processor. Blitz until mostly smooth but still a little chunky—you’re not looking for hummus here. Actually, I find it works better if you taste and adjust the herbs or citrus at this stage.
Spread the ricotta mixture over the middle of the pastry, keeping inside the border you made. Lick the spoon if no one’s watching.
Layer the roasted carrots over the ricotta, all pretty (or not, honestly). Overlap them a little, or scatter if you want it more haphazard (sometimes I do both!).
Brush the exposed edges of the pastry with your beaten egg (or milk if you forgot to buy eggs again, like me last Tuesday).
Bake the tart for about 22-27 minutes, or until the pastry is puffed and golden, and the carrots have a few caramelised spots. Don’t worry if it’s a little uneven—rustic is very in.
Let it cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing. This is honestly the hardest part, but it does make the tart set up a bit better. Serve warm, or at room temp if it’s a summer day and the kitchen’s already an oven.

Notes From My (Slightly Chaotic) Kitchen

I used to put the ricotta on after baking, thinking it would stay fresher, but it never melted in. Putting it on first just binds the whole thing together—wish I’d known sooner!
If you forget to pre-roast the carrots, don’t panic. Just slice them extra thin and bake the tart a few minutes longer—came out fine for me more than once!

Variations I’ve Tried (and Sometimes Regretted)

Swapped carrots for thin beet slices—gorgeous, but bled everywhere and stained my favourite towel. Tasty though!
Added crumbled feta to the ricotta—actually made it a bit too salty for my taste, but others loved it. If you do this, maybe skip the extra salt.
Tried sweet potato. Didn’t cook through properly unless par-steamed. Don’t recommend unless you’re patient, which, let’s face it, I’m not.
If you want to be fancy, sprinkle some toasted pine nuts on top once baked… lived to tell the tale and would do again.

Equipment (But Who Needs Fancy Gadgets?)

Food processor—makes the ricotta mix quicker, but you can just mash everything with a fork if you’re in a student flat with no gadgets. I’ve done it, it works, just chunkier.
Sharp knife for the carrots—though a mandoline is chef-level, I’m a bit too accident-prone to use one regularly.
Baking sheet and parchment—parchment’s less cleanup, but honestly, buttering a pan does the trick too.

How I Store It (or Not, Honestly)

If by some miracle you have leftovers: keep them in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 2 days. I think this tastes better the next day (the flavours mellow out), but—no joke—it rarely survives the night in my house. Tart thieves abound.

How to Serve (And What I Love With It)

Slice it into squares for brunch, or cut it into little fingers for a party snack (my friend once called these “carrot pizza sticks”—not sure that’s a thing, but it made me laugh). We sometimes serve it with a pile of peppery greens tossed in lemon juice, or, if we’re feeling fancy, a glass of dry prosecco. Occasionally I just eat it standing at the counter and call it lunch. No shame.

Things I Wish I’d Known (Pro Tips, aka Past Blunders)

Don’t rush the pastry thawing—one time I tried to unroll it frozen and it split into a thousand bits. Never again. Let it come to room temp slowly.
Carrots need a bit of pre-roasting, or the pastry just gets soggy. I once skipped this step (don’t recommend; you’ll end up with a tart that tastes like a damp sandwich).
If your ricotta mix is really wet, blot it with a paper towel before using—too much moisture and the tart just won’t crisp up.

FAQ (Or: Questions People Actually Ask Me)

Can I use shortcrust instead of puff pastry? Yep, you can! It’s a bit sturdier, so you might want to roll it thinner. Or just be ready for a heartier crust. I’ve done it and enjoyed both.
Can I prep it ahead? Sure! Make the ricotta mix and slice the carrots up to a day ahead. Assemble right before baking for the best puff.
Is it freezer-friendly? Eh, I’d say no. Freezer mutes the texture a bit too much—but if you’re desperate, try freezing the baked tart and rewarm gently. Just don’t blame me if it’s not perfect.
What herbs are best? Honestly, any soft herbs—parsley, basil, dill, chives, cilantro—go wild. Avoid woody ones like rosemary unless you like a chew (not my thing).
Could I skip the egg wash? Totally. The pastry just won’t be as glossy, but no biggie.
I only have baby carrots—okay? Absolutely. Just slice them lengthwise or in coins and carry on. Waste not, want not, as my Nan used to say.
And, last but not least, is it really worth the effort? My answer is always: Any excuse to use up extra herbs and make the fridge look less full is a win. Plus, who doesn’t want to eat something that looks like a rainbow flatbread?