• the coronavirus diaries: week seven

    One day last week, I woke up mad.

    At first I was just mildly irritated because my husband had flopped around in bed rather than slipping out of the room quietly so I could sleep, but that irritation soon morphed into an anger that bordered on full-blown rage.

    I was angry at everything.

    Angry that I had no one to hang out with.
    Angry at people for not reaching out.
    Angry that I had no one (besides my family) to feed.
    Angry that no one needed me.
    Angry that my younger kids couldn’t pop over to my parents to get tutored or spend the night.
    Angry that my older kids couldn’t get the regular, in-person college classes they were paying for.
    Angry that I couldn’t make plans.
    Angry at people for making light of the crisis.
    Angry at Trump for being a dick.
    Angry at the GOP for not stopping him.
    Angry at our church for not giving more regular updates.
    Angry at people for taking all the flour and baking powder (not that I needed any, but still).
    Angry at myself for being powerless, uncreative, and useless.
    Angry, angry, angry.

    I knew my rage was fueled by fear and sadness, worry and loneliness, but that knowledge didn’t help any. Short on sleep (thanks, hon), I had no reserves.

    All day, I was off-and-on weepy.

    *** 

    That same day I wrote an email to our pastor to ask if she knew of ways I might be involved. “Just …. trying to find ways to stay connected and useful to combat the sadness, rage, and loneliness (not to be dramatic or anything),” I wrote.

    One thing led to another and now I’m doing some of the behind-the-scenes organizational work for our local homeless shelter. It’s hardly anything, really.

    But it’s also not nothing.

    *** 

    Another thing that helped: a long phone chat with a friend who doesn’t bat at eye at my swearing, sobbing, and poor-me pity-parties.

    May we all be so fortunate to have such a friend.

    *** 

    That night, I slept well (this time my husband was very careful not to wake me — he’s a fast learner, that one) and the next day my burning rage had lessened to a dull throb.

    Mostly, I just felt sad.

    And lonely.

    So I posted on my church’s facebook page that I was available to go on six-feet-apart walk-and-talks on our spacious, winding, country roads.

    And then I felt terrible: What if people thought I was being careless? What if no one wanted to go on a walk with me?

    Oh well, I told myself. If I got rebuffed, or ignored, so what. At least I’d spoken up. I’d tried. 

    And guess what! So far three different people have taken me up on my offer! An hour or so in the fresh air, chatting about everything and nothing with another human being, isn’t much, really.

    Then again, it’s not nothing.

    photo credit: my younger daughter

    *** 

    And now, a few gems…
    *It took a global pandemic, but now I’m calling my mom (Bon Appetit).

    *If I made masks, this would be me (minus the Southern accent and smiles):

    *Food safety and the coronvirus: a comprehensive guide (Serious Eats). My takeaway: There are not any special risks connected to food. Since the virus needs to get into your lungs, even if someone is covid-positive and sneezes directly on your salad (their example, not mine), it is unlikely to make you sick. The main risk is proximity to other people, not the food.

    *The Love of God:

    xoxo!

    P.S. Right after I published this post, my father sent me a link to this video. It made my day:



    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (4.23.18), creamed honey, out of character, loose ends, the quotidian (4.23.12).

  • making pie: I have a system

    I’ve been making a lot of pie lately. This is due to several reasons.

    First, there’s something deeply satisfying about pie. With only a few ingredients — butter, fruit, sugar, flour … real ingredients — there’s no room for fluff. It’s solid food, without airs or pretense.

    It’s like this. If houses were desserts, layer cakes and cookies would be the sleek, magazine-worthy kitchens with svelte barstools and stainless steel wine rcks and granite countertops and paneled refrigerators. Pies, on the other hand, would be the old stone farmhouse kitchens with uneven, wide-plank wooden flooring, thrown-wide windows, worn braided rugs, enamel sinks, and jelly jars crammed with wild flowers. Both are functional and pleasing, but the farmhouse kitchens (i.e. the pies) are more simple and down-to-earth. And charming.

    Second, pie is versatile. Fill it with cheese, meats, and veggies and you have a one-dish main course. Tumble in some fruits and you’ve got a bright, sweet-tart dessert. Leftovers hold up well at room temp (if the filling is non-dairy) and make for great additions to packed lunches. Also, pies are great breakfast fare. Basically, if you have pie, you’ve got it all.

    Third, I’ve streamlined the pie-making process — this is the real reason we’re suddenly eating so much pie. Now, a fresh pie is about the quickest dessert I can make. Seriously! Why just the other night, supper was already half-cooked when I decided I wanted pie for dessert and, not ten minutes later, I had one in the oven. You could practically see my halo.

    for my dad: red raspberry

    So. Here’s what I do.

    1. I make pastry almost weekly but, instead of freezing the disks, or letting them sit in the fridge until I get the urge to make pie, I go one step further: I roll out the pastry and put it in the pie plates (I have a bunch; I prefer 9 or 10-inch plates) and crimp the edges. Once the pie shell is fully chilled — I don’t want to mush my crimps (sometimes I even flash-freeze it to ensure it’s sturdy enough) — I slip it into a large plastic bag (2½ gallon ziplocks work great) and transfer it to the freezer. (If you don’t have extra freezer space, then just freeze the disks. Or get a freezer.)

    2. There are many ways to top a pie — a pastry lid is classy, and there are a multitude of crumb recipes — but I’ve landed on a basic crumb topping that seems to work with almost any fruit pie (and would probably be fantastic on muffins, too). I make a double or triple batch and then freeze the crumbs in little containers, each container holding enough crumbs for a single pie.

    3. Recently, I’ve improved my standard pie pastry. I’ve upped the portions — and added some whole wheat and a touch of lard: I think the lard makes it flakier, though I could be imagining things — so now I get three pastries from each recipe. Voila, more pie!

    quiche: just look at all that gorgeous flakiness!

    With pie shells and crumb toppings always at the ready, when I decide I want pie, the only thing that’s left to do is the filling. And that couldn’t be easier, really. Just several cups of fruit, some sugar, lemon zest, and a thickening agent of some sort (a bit of flour, instant tapioca, cornstarch), and the pie’s in the oven.

    And that is why — and how — we are eating so much pie.

    more red raspberry: we loooove red raspberry

    Other tips for daily pie:  
    *For ultimate bottom browning, bake pies on the bottom rack of the oven.

    *Bake your fruit pies to death. For real! As long as the crust isn’t burned, keep baking. Go as long as possible. Bake, bake, bake, bake, bake.

    *Underfill the pie shells. This does three things:

    One, it prevents the pie filling from bubbling over and causing this:

    Two, it gives the pie pastry room to shrink down to meet the filling, providing more space for the pastry fat to bubble without overflowing to the oven floor.

    Three, with the pastry edge shrinking down the inside of the pan, the crimped edges are less likely to burn, allowing the pie to have more time in the oven to get nice and toasty brown.

    *If you do have an extra full pie, never fear. Just stick your most enormous cast-iron skillet in the oven to preheat. When it’s hot, carefully set your pie down in the hot skillet. (Pro tip: to make sure your pie pan fits in the skillet with enough room for your precious fingers, do a test run with a cold skillet.) The cast iron conducts heat much better than other baking pans, allowing for a gorgeous brown bottom and catching any overflow from the pastry fat and/or pie filling.

    See all the sizzling fat?

    *Go easy on the fruit. In fact, in the case of pie, less fruit is often better, especially when the filling is super rich and flavorful, as it is with red raspberry or grape. The only fruit this isn’t true for is a apples (as long as you’re using fresh apples and not a cooked apple filling.)

    apple

    *The fruit: mix it up. The other day I (or one of my daughters, actually) rough-chopped a few small granny smiths, and then I added a handful of frozen rhubarb and, for color, a few frozen cranberries. Another time I mixed a couple cups of frozen-and-thawed strawberries (leftover from a waffle brunch) with rhubarb. (Oh wait, that was for a rhubarb crunch, but still — same idea.) I often toss sour cherries with rhubarb or blueberries.

    *Keep a couple tubs of good vanilla ice cream on hand — Costco’s Kirkland brand is our favorite — since there’s nothing like a scoop of ice cream to elevate a warm piece of pie.

    apple, rhubarb, cranberry

    Need some more inspiration? Here are a few of our favorites: apple, blueberry, peach, rhubarb, sour cherry, cranberry, blackberry, grape, pear, red raspberry.

    Have at it!

    Basic Pie Pastry 
    This formula is inspired by a baking friend (the same one who tipped me off on the whole wheat sourdough).

    I just eyeball the lard. And there is room for a little flexibility with the other ingredients, too; at least, I’m kind of spotty with the measurements.

    Also, this makes a very dry pastry — it feels impossible, so powdery and crumbly, but it means the crust will be super flaky and delish.

    3 cups all-purpose flour
    1 tablespoon sugar
    1 teaspoon salt
    2 tablespoons whole wheat pastry flour
    2 tablespoons cold lard
    2 sticks and 5 tablespoons salted butter, cold and cut into pieces
    ⅔ cups cold water

    Pulse the first four ingredients together in a food processor. Add the lard and butter and pulse briefly until the fat has incorporated but still has some pea-and/or-cherry sized chunks. While the processor is running, pour the cold water through the spout. Pulse a couple more times to incorporate.

    Dump the pastry onto a clean counter and divide into three piles. Gently press each pile into a disk, placing the leftover dry crumbs on top of each disk.

    Wrap each disk in plastic wrap and place in the fridge for a couple hours, or a day or two, to chill.

    Before rolling out the pastry, allow the disks to rest at room temperature for a half hour. Roll out the pastry between two pieces of plastic wrap. Because the plastic tends to stick to the pastry, trapping the dough and preventing it from rolling out, periodically peel off the plastic and flip the whole pastry-and-plastic to facilitate the rolling process.

    Checking to see if I’ve rolled the pastry big enough.

    Transfer the pastry to a pie pan — I’m partial to glass because it allows me to see if the bottom of my pie is browning sufficiently. If the pastry is getting soft, chill it in the fridge before attempting to crimp.

    Trimming off the excess pastry and tucking the edges under.

    Chill the pastry (or flash freeze it) so the crimping doesn’t mush before bagging and freezing your pastry-lined pie pan.

    To bake: while the oven is preheating, remove the pastry from the freezer. Fill it as you wish and then slip it into the oven. It’s okay if the pan is still icy-cold — the cold helps the pastry retain its shape. 

    Note: Sometimes I like to blind bake my pastry a little, just to firm up the bottom crust, even if the recipe doesn’t call for it. (I almost always do this for baked custard pies, like pumpkin or sweet potato.) It’s my insurance against the dreaded soggy bottoms. To blind bake, simply line the inside of the pastry with a piece of aluminum foil, firmly pressing it along the bottom and up the sides and over the edge, holding the pastry in place. Pour pie weights (or dried beans) into the bottom and bake at 425 degrees for 5-8 minutes. Remove the tinfoil and weights and bake another five minutes. Add the prepared pie filling and bake as normal.

    Crumb Topping
    This is the same crumb topping I use for grape pie, just multiplied. As far as crumb toppings go, this one is on the sparse side: it’s enough to cover the pie, but not too thickly. I actually prefer a lighter crumb topping — the crumbs bake through better (no one likes soggy crumbs), and with fewer crumbs, rather than dominate the fruit, they showcase it.

    1½ cups flour
    ½ cup each brown sugar and white sugar
    12 tablespoons butter

    Mix everything together with your fingers until sandy and crumbly (or use a food processer). Divide the crumbs into four containers, label each “crumbs for 1 pie,” and freeze.

    This same time, years previous: the best fix, what it’s like to write full time, let’s pretend this isn’t happening, the quotidian (4.21.14), nutmeg coffee cake, therapy, my lot, what they really want.

  • the quotidian (4.20.20)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Spinach and strawberry.

    Gluten free.

    Also known as nature’s daggers.
    Time to eat.
    Prepped pot.

    The pot prepper, aka Count Olaf.

    Tomato babies.

    Cutting squares.

    But your pink bun is so cute!

    A mini snooze.

    Passing me up.

    Finishing (four years later).

    Broken belt sander: disassembled, reassembled, and now fixed.

    Oh good grief.
    Eventide.

    This same time, years previous: both ends, it takes a village, in the night air, with an audience, the quotidian (4.20.15), joining the club, fun and fiasco part three, picking us up, bacon-wrapped jalapenos.