• 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.

  • the coronavirus diaries: week six

    Sunday
    For several days now, my husband has had severe stomach bloating and cramping. (Actually, he’s felt this way for years. Going lactose-free helped tremendously, but not all the way). Increasingly, he’s been feeling more and more uncomfortable and finally, after reading about the symptoms of non-celiac gluten sensitivity (of which he has all of them), he announces that he’s going gluten-free.

    I plant the lettuce and spinach. I wonder if this is unnecessary, since my daughter’s occasional gleanings from the farm have proven sufficient thus far, but then I do it anyway.

    Monday
    In place of milk, my husband eats water on his granola. He says it’s good.

    Tuesday
    My husband and I have a zoom-and-wine date with friends (except I skip the wine — it’s too close to bedtime).

    Wednesday
    My mom comes over so I can give her a haircut. I wear a mask. When I’m finished, I take the mask off and blow the hairs off her.

    In the evening, we watch the National Theatre’s free streaming of One Man, Two Guvnors. It’s so outrageously and uproariously hilarious that, at the intermission, we have to take a break to pull ourselves together.

    Thursday
    We use up the last of the half-and-half. Now we’re lacing our coffee with heavy whipping cream. I’m not complaining.

    My husband has a meeting with prospective clients. I’m so bored that I ride along with him, just for the heck of it. While he meets with the homeowners, I alternate between snoozing and staring out the van window.

    Friday
    It’s Day Two of high winds, and I feel battered by the constant pounding of the wind against the roof and exhausted from inactivity. In the afternoon, headachy and bored, I lay down to read and end up taking an off-again-on-again nap.

    I don’t get up until suppertime.

    Our church is requesting short videos of church members “passing the peace.” My kids insist we send in a clip of a family dance party, so I do. It’s decidedly unholy, though, so I doubt they’ll use it.

    We have zoom happy hour with my husband’s siblings — all eight of them — and their families. 

    Saturday
    My husband eats sourdough toast with his bacon and eggs. Three hours later, he gets abdominal cramps that last about 18 hours, and, despite having slept well the night before, he’s so exhausted he can hardly function. Well, darn.

    We’re running dangerously low on toilet paper, garlic, and onions. We’re out of sour cream and tortilla chips. The asparagus is up.

    We watch the free streaming of Jesus Christ Superstar.

    Sunday
    I convince my husband to go running with me (two mornings in a row!) and then that afternoon we walk to my parents’ house, the boys trailing.

    Their dorkiness is in full force.

    ***

    I’ve been thinking a lot about why I’m not as bored as I usually am.

    Perhaps because, like me, so many people are at home (or at least the people who aren’t essential; everyone else is being run ragged), I feel less alone, more connected.

    Plus, now that my options are severely limited, there is no point in thinking about what I could/should/might be doing.

    This is it. This is all.

    For my needy, driven self, it’s almost a relief.

    ***

    Frustrated that, regarding the stimulus package, his age bracket has been entirely overlooked, he wrote a letter.

    the spontaneous activist 
    (though he’s working on his studies here, not the letter)

    “Never mind that I have been a taxpayer for the last five years, that I am paying my own way through college, or that I have many of the same expenses as a thirty-year-old adult, such as car payments, clothing, food, and insurance; the US government has overlooked us as though we do not matter.”

    My daughter, too, got in on the action.

    And thus concludes our civics lesson 101.

    ***

    Watching movies (TV shows, plays, whatever), we marvel at all the casual physical contact. They shake hands! they give hugs! they cheek kiss! they share food! they stand close together! It’s as though they haven’t a care in the world.

    When will we do this again?

    Will we do this again?

    ***

    Since the pandemic hit, it seems like I’ve been watching more theater than ever before.

    Tonight’s the last night to see the National Theatre’s production of Jane Eyre! We watched it last night, breaking at intermission (it’s long!) for pie and ice cream. (Premiering Thursday, April 16 at 2:00 p.m.: Treasure Island.)

    Fleabag fans: watch the play for five dollars, and charity!

    The American Shakespeare Center is streaming shows now, too. I haven’t watched any yet, but I’ve heard good things.

    ***

    And then of course there’s the usual Netflix and Amazon Prime….

    I’ve been loving on Chef, an earthy show in which chefs learn from one another, mess up, discover new techniques, do impromptu creating, and eat lots and lots of food.

    My husband and I started watching Unorthodox. He could hardly stand it, though, since fanatical religious behavior makes his skin crawl. Which is unfortunate because the story’s compelling and the acting is marvelous and I really, really, really want to watch it with him. Maybe if we watch it during daylight hours and then decompress with funny YouTube videos?

    We’ve also started watching The English Game. We’ve only watched one episode, but right away I got excited over the abundance of smart, opinionated female characters. (It doesn’t have the best ratings, though.)

    Sunday’s family night movie, Knives Out, was a fun change of pace.

    ***

    And finally, a few other gems…

    *This view of Paris in lockdown (with recipes!). “We are thankful that France …. has solid healthcare and social security systems in place, with free medical care available to all and an admirable commitment to supporting citizens and businesses throughout this crisis.” Can you even imagine?!

    *Keep a plague diary. (I am so on the ball.)

    *A word about the post office and postal workers, from Ted in the Shed. “I would think at this point in our new realities, they don’t want to be called heroes. I think, rather, they want to be safe and also have a job in 5 months.”

    *Explaining the pandemic to my past self:

    *Our Pandemic Summer, an indepth look at what the future holds (The Atlantic): “‘…this isn’t about the next couple of weeks. This is about the next two years.'” (I’ve only skimmed this so far, but I plan to read it out loud to the family over supper tonight.) (Update: just read it to the family. An excellent article. Reading it out loud helped me to absorb the information, and it helped to get all of us on the same page, giving us all a more realistic perspective on what we’re going through. Highly, highly recommend.)

    *Read the room: for both kids and adults, a little tip to alleviate the strain of all this togetherness we’re doing.




    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (4.15.19), cheesy popcorn, take two: Omri, the quotidian (4.16.12), mint wedding cake, asparagus with lemony creme fraiche and boiled egg.