Slice the blackberries in half if they are large and place them in the cream in random places. Place the mango in the cream next to the kiwi. Peel the mango and cut it into thin slices about 1 x 1 inch. (If using green grapes instead of kiwis, slice the grapes in half.) Place the kiwi slices in the cream against the cut side of the strawberries. Slice each half into 1/2 -inch-thick half-moons. Peel the kiwi and slice it in half lengthwise. Stem and quarter the strawberries and place them on top of the cream with one cut side down, spaced randomly but evenly. (Hint: The tart shell has a tendency to slide around a bit, so anchor it to the plate by putting a small spoonful of the pastry cream mixture directly on the plate before placing the tart shell on it.) Fill the tart shell with the pastry cream mixture and spread it evenly with a spatula. Gently pop the tart shell out of the pan. Fold the pastry cream into the whipped cream until thoroughly combined. In a medium bowl, whip the heavy cream until it holds a peak and is thick and soft. (At this point the tart shell can be stored, well wrapped, at room temperature for up to 1 week.) Remove from the oven and let cool completely on a wire rack. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, rotating the baking sheet midway through the baking time, until it is golden brown all around. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and place a rack in the center of the oven. (At this point you can wrap the tart shell well in plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 3 days or freeze it for up to 2 weeks.) Refrigerate the tart shell for at least 30 minutes to let the dough rest the gluten needs a little time to relax so it doesn't shrink in the oven. Make sure the entire tart pan is completely covered with dough, and press one last time all the way around to ensure that any holes have been patched up. Use any scraps or odd pieces to patch up any tears or missing bits. Trim the edge of the shell even with the top of the tart pan. Press the dough into the tart pan, taking care to press into the corners. Roll it gently around the rolling pin, then unfurl it over an 8-inch tart pan. Once the dough circle is about 10 inches in diameter, dock it by poking it all over with a fork or a pastry docker (see Cook's Note). You can easily patch these tears up once you've lined the tart pan. Don't worry if the dough breaks a bit, especially toward the edges. Use a bench scraper to help move the dough by scraping underneath the dough and moving it around. Roll from the center of the disk outward and gently rotate the disk 90 degrees (a quarter-turn) after each roll to ensure that the disk gets stretched out evenly into a nice circle. Carefully roll out the disk into a circle about 10 inches in diameter. Make sure the surface you are rolling on is well floured so that the dough does not stick to it likewise, make sure the disk itself is floured well enough to keep the rolling pin from sticking to it. Generously flick flour over the work surface and the dough. Using a rolling pin, press the dough to flatten it into a disk about 1/2 inch thick. Remove the pate sucree from the refrigerator, unwrap it, and knead it slightly to make it malleable if it feels stiff. It's a fleeting treat for sure but your reward is a delicate, crispy, sweet shell filled with fresh vanilla cream and piled high with the juiciest, ripest fruit, ready to eat out of hand. The fruit had to be perfectly ripe and fresh and able to stand on its own. This meant the tarts would only last a day. When I put fresh fruit tarts on the menu at Flour, I took a different approach. The nappage kept the fruit looking fresh for a few days, which meant the tart could sit for several days and still be presentable. Every morning I would build stunning tarts with vivid berries and fresh currants and sliced apricots and then I would paint the fruit meticulously with a clear gelatin coating called nappage. I also learned tricks on how to extend the life of fresh fruit for several days when making a fruit tart. I picked up kitchen French full of slang and swears, I learned how to chablonner un biscuit joconde (which means to cover a thin cake with chocolate), I became a pro at rolling the heads of dozens of brioches a tete at four in the morning. It was a classic French kitchen filled with classically trained French pastry chefs. I learned a million and one things while working at Payard Patisserie in New York City.
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