Sweet Potato Sonker

In a brief scene in Les Blank's 1983 documentary Sprout Wings and Fly, on Surry County, North Carolina fiddler Tommy Jarrell, Jarrell's girlfriend can be seen pulling two steaming sonkers from the oven. It only captures the camera's attention for a few seconds, and you'd miss it if you weren't looknig for it, but it's a big moment for the sonker, an obscure dessert native to two counties of North Carolina and scarcely known to those without connections to the area. That cinematic appearance also encapsulates why I find the sonker so compelling-- not only is the dish inherently intertwined with a specific place, that place also bears its on particular musical tradition; this scene on film twines the three.

As I wrote in a 2012 post featuring a Peach Sonker, a sonker lies somewhere on the spectrum between a deep-dish pie and a cobbler, with a layer of pastry on the bottom, the sides, and or the middle, and generally sporting a lattice top crust. There are numerous varations on this though-- some recipes that lean towards a pandowdy, bearing dumpling that are then covered with the filling. A sonker can be made with any fruit, and there are many that grow well in Surry and Wilkes counties, but peach and sweet potato are favorites. An identifying quality of a sonker is the milk dip, a boiled, sweetened sauce that is partially poured over the crust and filling near the end of baking, with the remainder served on the side as a topping.



I first heard of a sonker in the pages of Nancie McDermott's essential cookbook Southern Pies. When I happened upon it, I had just been to Surry County for the Mt. Airy Fiddler's Convention, capital of the Round Peak style of old-time fiddling. At the time, the only other thing I knew about Mt. Airy was that it was the model for Andy Griffith's Mayberry. If I had made my trip four months later however, I may have swapped the music festival for the annual Sonker Festival, celebrated the first weekend of October. But alas, I made my own introduction, falling in love with Nancie's Peach Sonker recipe and vowing to incorporate it into my regular dessert repertoire.

A few year later, April McGreger's sweet potato sonker recipe in the pages of her Savor the South cookbook reminded me of my sonker love, and I made her version on various occasions. Then last year, my friend Ronni Lundy wrote me, asking if I might create a sweet potato sonker using sorghum, both for her upcoming book, and a spring party at Big Switch Farm in Egypt, Kentucky. Initially Ronni and I were thinking buttermilk for the milk dip, though we were concerned it would curdle during boiling, so we stuck with whole milk.

That book of Ronni's, Victuals: An Appalachian Journey with Recipes, came out a few months ago, and is a master work, illuminating the foodways of the region in story, history, photos, and yes, recipes. Ronni focuses particularly on the foods she grew up eating, and the young (and youngish) Appalachian chefs, home cooks, and farmers who are creatively contributing to the evolution of those food and agricultural traditions of the mountain south. That party at Big Switch, featured in "Appalachian Spring," the last chapter of the book, convened friends spread across the region and beyond (I was still living in D.C. at the time), to christen a new season on the farm, play fiddle tunes, and offer our take on the foods of the season and region. There was Anna's swoon-worthy "Appalachian Spring" cocktail, Lora's Redbud Caper Deviled Eggs, Sumac Oil Flatbread with Country Ham and Pickled Ramps, Fresh Greens with Sorghum Vinegar, a Simple Rhubarb Tart, and more.

In the book, and the party, this Sweet Potato Sonker had a moment. Like the one in Blank's documentary, it's a bit role, but an important one, embedding the dish in a place, to music, to a gathering embued with meaning for those there, and those witnessing. I'm so compelled by the sonker because of this specificity-- how an unusual dessert with a funny name resists a severing from tradition, demands a story, a history. Of course, you could decontextualize it-- that type of extraction is far too familiar in Appalachia-- but then something would be lost, a crucial element of it gone; it probably wouldn't taste as good.

Sweet Potato Sonker 
Adapted from April McGreger's version, and featured in Ronni Lundy's Victuals

Ingredients
Nothing in the House pie crust, doubled
8 Tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus more for greasing the baking dish
1/2 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
6 medium (about 3 pounds) sweet potatoes, peeled
1-2 teaspoons salt, depending on your preference
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup sorghum syrup
3 cups whole milk
2 Tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions
1. 1. Prepare doubled Nothing in the House pie crust as per the directions. Divide the dough into two balls and wrap in plastic wrap. Chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour.

2. Butter and lightly flour a 13x9 inch baking dish (or a dish with an equivalent capacity and at least 2-inches deep). On a floured surface, roll out half of the chilled dough into a large rectangle that will cover the bottom and sides of the baking dish. Transfer the rolled-out dough to the prepared baking dish, and press it down gently to line the dish and form the bottom crust. Place the dish in the fridge to chill.

3. Put the whole peeled sweet potatoes in a large pot, add cold water to cover, and add the salt. Place the pot over medium heat, cover, and bring to a boil. Then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the potatoes are fork-tender, about 25 minutes.

4. Use a large slotted spoon to transfer the cooked potatoes to a cutting board to cool. Measure out and  reserve 1 1/2 cups of the cooking liquid to use later. Slice the cooled sweet potatoes into rounds, making them as thin as possible without breaking them.

5. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Remove the dough-lined pan from the fridge and layer the sliced sweet potatoes on top of the crust. In a medium bowl, combine 1 cup of the sugar, the sorghum, 1/3 cup of the flour, the butter, and the 1 1/2 cups reserved cooking liquid. Mix well and pour over the sweet potatoes.

6. Roll out the rest of the dough into a rectangle about the size of the baking pan. Cut into strips about 1/2-inch wide and form a lattice crust on top of the sweet potatoes.

7. Bake for about 40 minutes, until the crust is golden brown (the sonker will not be fully baked at this point).

8. While the sonker is baking, prepare the milk dip: Whisk 1/2 cup of the milk with the cornstarch in a medium saucepan, making sure all the cornstarch is dissolved. Add the remaining 2 1/2 cups milk and the remaining 1/2 cup sugar. Set the pan over medium-high heat and let it come to a boil. Let boil for 1 minute to thicken. Then remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla.

9. When the sonker has cooked for 40 minutes. Pour 2 cups of the prepared milk dip over the entire surface. Return the sonker to the oven and bake for 15 minutes more or until it is caramelized around the edges and brown on top. Remove the dish from the oven and let it cool for at least 20 minutes before serving; the milk will continue to be absorbed and thicken.

10. Serve the sonker just warm, with the remaining milk dip on the side for drizzling.

For more of the recipes of this gathering, and for a crucial, deep narrative on the foods of the region, told by one of its best storytellers and champions, I highly recommend picking up a copy of Victuals. Beyond it's inevitable place in the cannon, it's also an accessible resource for daily cooking-- many of the recipes come straight from Ronni's family, and their East Kentucky homeplace and are made from ingredients that are staples in most pantries.

Related recipes:

Sorghum's Savor Peach-Sorghum Pandowdy with Cornmeal Biscuits

Surry County Peach Sonker with Dip

Sweet Potato Pie with Cornmeal Crust

Sweet Potato Speculoos Pie

Nearly-Fall Fruit Tart with Goat Cheese and Almond Shortbread Crust

As the New Yorker informed us all last month, figs are pretty goth. The fruit, which is actually an inverted flower, has developed a symbiotic relationship with a tiny insect known as a fig wasp. The female wasp pollinates the fig, lays her eggs, and then gets trapped inside, and dies; the fig eventually breaks down her carcass into protein.

This new knowledge just adds to the cloud of mystery that for me, surrounds the fig. Of course, growing up in the midwest, we didn't have much access to fresh figs-- the only variety I knew came dried from the bulk bins at the co-op or stuffed in a Newton. The first real fig I ever had came from the market in Aix-en-Provence, France when I studied abroad there my junior year of college. A visit to the center market, lined with tables of a Mediterranean bounty of dates and Italian plums, pistachios and grapes,  honey and olives, and the plump purple figs striped with narrow flecks of green. The farmer, whose sing-song list of her wares, rang out clearly in her thick Provençal accent above the market din, offered me a sample and my first bite was otherworldly. I felt like I was eating something from another planet, the fruit bursting with its pink alien brain insides, and succulent, floral flavor.  Later when I moved to North Carolina for grad school, figs became more familiar, but never lost their subtle mystery. Year later, on the first date of a rekindling romance, my counterpart called to tell me he'd be a bit late; he was picking me figs.

Here in West Virginia, I fortuitously got myself employed by an organization with an office fig tree. Since I started there last November, I've been eyeing the tree every time I enter the building, anticipating the moment when I can pull one of the tree and plop it in my mouth. Early last month, I overeagerly jumped the gun a bit, picking some that were a little too green, but luckily they ripened in the fridge. 

This tart was conceived out of the first real fig harvest, though splitting the share with my coworkers, I didn't quite have enough figs for a full tart. This proved advantageous though, from both a decorative and flavor standpoint, and I ended up with a veritable fruit salad atop this goat cheese tart. It turns out that an artful arrangement of fruit also gives you a lot of bang for your buck, in terms of oohs and ahs and... well... some Instagram likes. This style of tart, with fresh fruit atop a cheese or custard filling is also highly adaptable to season; top the goat cheese interior with whatever fruit you have on hand, and time of the year, and it should serve you well.

Nearly-Fall Fruit Tart with Goat Cheese and Almond Shortbread Crust

Makes one 11-inch tart (though a 9-inch tart is pictured)

Ingredients

For the crust:

1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
1 cup almond meal (make your own by grinding almonds in the food processor)
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar
10 Tablespoons (1 stick +2 Tablespoons) unsalted butter
4 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 Tablespoon ice water

For the filling:

8 ounces fresh chèvre

8 ounces mascarpone

4 large eggs

2/3 cup + 2 Tablespoons sugar

Zest of 1 orange

For the topping:

Assortment of fresh fruits, such as figs, plums, raspberries and blackberries, about 1 cup each.

Directions

For the crust:

1. Combine flour, almond meal, and sugar in a food processor and pulse until well combined. Add cold butter chunks to the almond mixture and process until mix is the size of small peas. Add egg yolks, extracts, and ice water and pulse just until dough begins to form. Remove pastry dough from the food processor and wrap tightly in plastic wrap. Chill for at least one hour and up to 1 day.

2. After dough has chilled, lightly grease the bottom and sides of an 11-inch tart pan. Remove the dough from the fridge. Roll out dough between two sheets of parchment paper and transfer to the tart pan, forming the crust up the sides (dough will be crumbly, so you may have to piece it together). Fold dough over the sides to ensure that the tart will have a strong edge. Prick all over the bottom with a fork. Chill for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the filling.

For the filling: 
1. Preheat over to 350. Blend chèvre, mascarpone, eggs, and 2/3 cup of sugar. Zest the orange and combine with the 2 Tablespoons of sugar. Combine the chèvre & orange mixtures until smooth. 

2. Pour the mixture into the tart shell, place on a cookie sheet and bake for 45 minutes until crust is golden brown and filling is set. Let the tart cool on a cooling rack.

For the topping & assembly:

1. Just before serving, artfully arrange fruit on top of the tart (you may want to slice some fruits, such as figs and plums).

2. Serve immediately and enjoy! Leftovers can keep in the fridge for 3-4 days, but I'm not sure you'll have many.

Related recipes:
Cranberry Goat Cheese Tart with Almond Shortbread Crust
Fig-Pistachio Tarte Tatin
Fresh Fig Tartlets with Goat Cheese and Red Wine Syrup
Pear and Cardamom-Fig Pie

Happy Pi(e) Day 2016!

Photo by Chris Chen from Pi(e) Day 2013 at The Dunes, Washington, D.C.

Happy Pi(e) Day! I hope you are enjoying the mathematical excuse of the day to gather with friends around the 2piR circular revolution that is PIE. I plan to celebrate this evening via a pie potluck with a few neighborhood pals here in Charleston's East End.

Here's a look at some past Pi(e) Day celebrations in D.C., North Carolina, and Texas and if you're looking for that special 3.14 recipe, you just may find it in the Nothing in the House recipe archive.

Kimchi Bloody Mary

This past weekend I attended the Appalachian Storytellers edition of the Blind Pig Supper Club at Claxton Farm in Weaverville, North Carolina. One of my favorite dishes on the star-studded menu was Louisville chef Ed Lee's Pork Schnitzel with Gravy, Chow Chow, Kimchi Purée & Ham Salt. What made it particularly good was the balance of the sweet and thick chow chow with the fine, spicy hot kimchi. More affirmation that I really need to make it to one of his restaurants some day.

The specific taste of Lee's kimchi purée was familiar and I realized that it was this Kimchi Bloody Mary that it reminded me of. I developed this recipe for the gals at Gordy's Pickle Jar, but it's inspired by the amazing kimchi bloodies at the D.C. Korean restaurant Mandu-- a brunch favorite no longer convenient now that I live in West Virginia. This recipe is a close second and is still one of the best bloody marys I've ever had, topping the list along with Mandu's and my friend Mike's homemade version we had in the Lost Creek Farm sauna this New Year's Day.

The recipe works best with Gordy's spiced and briney Bloody Mary Mix, but if you can't source that where you are, substitute your favorite mix, whether store bought or homemade.



Kimchi Bloody Mary

Ingredients
1/2 cup of kimchi, processed in a food processor until very fine
1 1/2 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Juice of 1/2 lime (reserve other half for garnish)
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, chopped very fine
1 1/4 cup Gordy's Bloody Mary Mix (or your favorite mix, store bought or homemade)
1 squirt of Srirachi sauce, to taste (optional, as Gordy's mix is already spicy!)
3 ounces vodka
1 cup ice cubes

Directions
In a blender, combine all ingredients, reserving the ice. Divide ice into 2 glasses and pour drink mixture over ice. Serve with a lime wedge. Cheers!

Related recipes:
Colcannon Pie
Gordy's Cherry Pepper Spread Galette
Heirloom Hand Pies with Bacon, Cheddar & Thai Basil Jalapenos
Mayday Cocktail

Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie with Nabs Crust

  
Nabs. Peanut Butter Crackers. Lance's Toast Chee. Whatever you call them, you are likely familiar with the unnaturally florescent "cheese" crackers that are sandwiched with peanut butter and wrapped in cellophane-- six to a pack. For me, they were the stuff of after school snacks, bought with quarters out of the teacher's lounge vending machine or pulled from my mother's desk drawer while my brother and I waited for her to finish her classroom work. I hadn't thought about those sandwich crackers much since until my friend Emily Wallace, a Nabs devotée, made some illustrations of them for bookmarks. Then a few months ago, while interviewing Richmond chef Travis Milton for a story for Gravy, he mentioned that he'd made some Nabs-crusted pork cutlets and began to wax poetic:

It’s kinda like a fried pork chop pounded up and you just grind up Nabs and the sugar and the peanut butter gets real real crispy and kinda caramelizes and the cracker meal gets good. I’ve also rolled sausage balls or boudin balls in that too. Nabs are one of my favorite things in the world.

This got me thinking-- could I use Nabs in a sweet dish, perhaps as a pie crust? I started talking about it with some friends, but quickly realized that many did not know what "Nabs" were, calling them instead "Toast Chee" or "Cheese and Peanut Butter Crackers." "Nabs" are a shortened version of "Nabisco," who along with Lance, produced varieties of the sandwich crackers in the early 1900s. Nabisco adopted the shortened name used by customers, however in the late 70s and early 80s, they discontinued their "Nabs," leaving those made by Keebler and Lance to become the prominent brands. The "Nabs" moniker is particularly prevalent in North Carolina, as according to Our State Magazine, both Lance and Nabisco had factories in the state, and the crackers were a common quick snack for mill workers who often did not get a break for lunch.



Regardless of what you call them, my rigorous testing proved that Nabs can indeed make a fine pie crust, similar to a graham cracker, saltine, or Oreo crust. I adapted the filling from this Peanut Butter-Pretzel Tart, as Nabs seemed to demand a milk chocolate pairing rather than semi-sweet. The result resembles a Butterfinger, both in richness and flavor. Rather than a peanut butter swirl, you could also do a chocolate covered peanut filling, which would add a nice crunch.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie with Nabs Crust

For the crust:
1 1/2 cups (about 6 packets) Nabs aka "Cheese" and Peanut Butter Crackers, crushed
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1 Tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt

For the filling:
8 ounces milk chocolate chips
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter (Use run-of-the-mill salted and sweetened peanut butter. If you use natural, make sure it's smooth, and you'll want to add sugar to taste--probably 1/2 cup)

Directions

1. For the crust: Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Place Nabs in the bowl of a food processor and process until fine crumbs form.  Add melted butter, sugar, and salt, and pulse until well mixed.

2. Pat the buttery crumbs into a 9-inch pie pan, pressing mixture into the bottom and sides to form a pie crust. Place in oven and bake until crust is set, about 10-12 minutes. Place on a cooling rack and let cool to room temperature before adding the filling.

3. For the filling: Put chocolate in a heat-proof bowl and set aside. Combine cream and butter in a medium saucepan and place on medium heat until it just comes to a boil. When it begins to boil, pour it over the chocolate, cover the bowl, and let it sit for 3-5 minutes. Remove the lid and whisk in the chocolate until it is completely melted and has a ganache-like consistency. Pour it into the cooled pie crust and smooth with a rubber spatula.

4. Meanwhile, warm the peanut butter in the microwave or on the stove until it is slightly runny. Pour it over the chocolate ganache, and drag a butter knife through it to create swirls. Chill for at least 25-30 minutes to set. Serve at room temperature and enjoy.

Related recipes:
Chocolate and Peanut Butter Pretzel Tart
Chocolate and Strawberry Pocky Pie
Peanut Butter Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Ganache
Speculoos Icebox Pie

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

It's been hard to find the time to blog lately. That's not a complaint, necessarily, just the way it is, with long full-time hours at Folkways along with frequent trips to North Carolina and other travel, all while trying to squeeze in other personal projects.

When I do have the time through, I'm compelled to go about the aspects of posting in a more deliberate way, trying a new photo set-up, filling gaps in my recipe catalog so I'm covering the classics, but also writing about more unusual regional and historical recipes. These are pies and other desserts that may have faded with the rise and fall of baking trends, or are in desperate need of recontextualization as their story and the people attached has become glossed over, simplified, or stereotyped. This is something that happens often with recipes from the south and other rural places.





I've also committed myself to shooting more film again-- for the blog and just in general. I've been really inspired by the past couple of rolls I shot on my dad's old Nikon F. The camera and the macro lens just capture light in a way that digital can never achieve with its more flattened, even algorithm. Zeke compared it to analog tape, and that sounds right-- with film, what's in focus is completely clear, ringing out over the more gestural, fuzzy background.



I spent Memorial Day weekend at home-- a good three days to catch up on things, make a lot of food, take a lot of photos, and even work in a trip to the pool with friends. The weekend prior, Zeke and I picked 13 pounds of strawberries at Whitted Bowers Farm in Cedar Grove, North Carolina-- an organic, biodynamic U-pick patch with the sweetest, most flavorful berries I've ever tasted. I went a little crazy processing them-- pickling, freezing, baking, infusing them in vodka and putting them in ice cream (some details of such coming to the blog). A coworker also gifted me some rhubarb, so a Strawberry Rhubarb Pie was most definitely in order.



I browsed a number of recipes, settling on Nancie McDermott's from her crucial resource Southern Pies, due to it's higher ratio of rhubarb to strawberries. I'm a huge fan of rhubarb, and in my book, the best berry-rhubarb pies don't mask the rhubarb flavor, but enhance it. The strawberries were so sweet so I cut back on the sugar, and were small enough to leave them whole. This was hands down one of the best pies I've ever made, the flavor so brilliantly forward, the filling so red.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Adapted from Nancie McDermott's Southern Pies

Ingredients
Nothing in the House pie crust
3/4 cup-1 cup granulated sugar, depending on sweetness of berries
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 cups fresh rhubarb, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
2 cups hulled strawberries (mine were small so I kept them whole, but if large, cut into 1-inch pieces)
1 Tablespoon fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 large egg, beaten + 1 Tablespoon milk or cream, for egg wash
Turbinado sugar, for dusting

Directions
1. Prepare pie crust as per the directions here. Refrigerate dough for approximately 1 hour. Once chilled, roll out 1/2 of pie crust and fit into a 9-inch greased and floured pie pan. Return crust to the fridge while you prepare the lattice & filling.

2. Preheat oven to 425 F. In a large bowl, combine sugar, flour, cinnamon, and salt, using a whisk or fork.  Add rhubarb, strawberries, and stir together gently with a wooden spoon. Pour mixture into pie crust.

3. To make the lattice: Roll out remaining dough into a long rectangle. Using a ruler as a guide, use a knife or pastry wheel to cut strips of equal width for the lattice top. Lay strips parallel across the pie and fold back every other strip. Weave the same number of strips perpendicular to the first strips, alternating over and under. Trim strips so that they leave a 1-inch overhang. Fold bottom crust over the lattice and tuck the excess under. Seal and flute edges decoratively. 

4. Brush lattice with egg wash and dust with Turbinado sugar. Place pie on baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes, then lower temperature to 350 degrees F and bake until filling bubbles and crust is golden brown, 45-50 minutes more. 

5. Place pie on cooling wrack and let cool for at least 30 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature. 

Related recipes:
4 & 20 Blackbirds' Rhubarb Pie
Rhubarb Meringue Tart with Pecan Shortbread Crust
Simple Rhubarb Tart
Strawberry Apricot Pie
Strawberry Crème Tart
Strawberry Icebox Pie

Pine Nut & Honey Tart

Honey may just be the most sacred food there is. It is literally concentrated nectar, tastes sweeter to the tongue than refined sugar, and according to Hattie Ellis in The Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets was the first and most flavorful sweetener in the West until the sugar plantation production system was developed in the 1600s. It was prevalent in both foods and rituals of Ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome, appears as a sacred symbol in Hinduism, Judaism, and Christianity, and has been used as a medicinal tonic for at least 4,000 years.

What I particularly find fascinating about honey is that no two are alike--they are highly dependent on season, region (even micro-region), weather, and nectar source. When I studied abroad in Aix-en-Provence, my housemates and I developed a great fondness for the particular honey of a beekeeper who sold at the open air market. He had a huge white beard, overalls and a straw hat, and his name was Claude Qui Dort (translated as "Claude Who Sleeps." Aside from being a magical creature in our imagination, he also had the best honey and I've never had any that tasted quite like it since. Now I'm partial to Anarchy Apiaries honey from the Hudson Valley and was recently gifted some Oregon Old Blue Raw Feagles Creek blackberry and thistle honey from Camille Storch that I'm saving for something special.



For this Pine Nut & Honey tart, I used wildflower honey from Singer's Glen, Virginia's Golden Angels Apiary-- a local honey available at Whole Foods P. Street as part of their work to support pollinators and restore wildflower habitats). I paired it with a lighter Italian lime blossom honey. Martha's original recipe (yes, we're on a first-name basis) called for additional sugar in the filling, but I didn't want to detract from the complex honey flavor, and frankly it didn't need any more sweetness. The pine nuts added a great savory crunch and together the combination felt rather Mediterranean-- like something Claude Qui Dort might eat.

Pine Nut and Honey Tart

Adapted from Martha Stewart

Makes a 10-inch deep-dish tart

Ingredients
For the crust:
1/4 cup heavy cream or whole milk
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for surface
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon coarse salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/4 sticks unsalted butter, cold and cut into small pieces

For the filling:
1/3 cup amber or dark-amber honey (I used Golden Angels Apiary wildflower honey)
1/4 cup light amber honey (I used lime blossom honey)
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 1/2 cups pine nuts

Directions
For the crust:
1. In a medium bowl, whisk together cream, egg and egg yolk, and vanilla and set aside. In the bowl of a food processor, pulse flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder until homogenous. Add butter, and pulse until mixture resembles cornmeal and peas. With the machine running, add the cream mixture, and process just until the dough begins to come together. Shape dough into a flat disc, and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour.

2. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. On a clean and lightly floured surface, roll out dough to about 1/8-inch thickness. (My dough was pretty sticky and soft, so I ended up mostly piecing it together). Cut out a 14-inch round, and fit it into a greased and floured 10-inch springform tart or cake pan with a removable ring, pulling tart dough about 2 inches up the sides and creating a thick rim. Place in freezer while you prepare the filling.

For the filling:
1. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, bring honeys and salt to a boil, whisking constantly. Remove from heat, add butter, and whisk until melted. Transfer the honey mixture to a medium bowl, and let cool for 30 minutes. Once cool, whisk in the cream, egg, and egg yolk until combined.

2. Place tart pan on a baking sheet with a rim. Scatter pine nuts over the bottom of the crust and slowly pour filling over the nuts, redistributing pine nuts evenly with your fingers if needed. Bake until crust is golden brown and center is set but still slightly wobbly, about 1 hour. Transfer the tart to a wire rack, and let cool completely. Remove ring from pan and serve immediately.



Related recipes:
Meyer Lemon Honey Marmalade Linzer Torte
Salty Honey Pie
Swiss Chard & Goat Cheese Galette (with pine nuts)

Thank you to Whole Foods P St. for supplying the honey, pine nuts and eggs for this recipe. No additional compensation provided and all opinions my own. 

Pi(e) Days Past

This is the first time in 5 years that I'm not putting on a big Pi(e) Day party, and though I've always had fun, I have to say it's a relief to not have to do all that planning, hosting, and baking! I'll likely still make a pie though, and in lieu of a major 2015 event here's a look at some Pi(e) Days past, with favorite recipes from each.

Pi(e) Day 2014 - The Dollhouse, Washington, D.C.

Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze
Tarheel Pie (pictured)

Pi(e) Day 2013 - The Dunes, Washington, D.C.

Bourbon Bacon Pecan Pie (pictured)
Hoosier Sugar Cream Pie

Pi(e) Day 2012 - St. Stephen's Church, Washington, D.C.

Banana Cream Pie with Pecan Crust and Salty Bourbon Caramel
Gorgonzola, Pear, and Balsamic Honey Galette

Pi(e) Day 2011 - Johnny's, Carrboro, NC

Date-Butter Pie
Avocado Pie (pictured)

Pi(e) Day 2010 - Celebrity Dairy, Siler City, NC

Lemon Goat Cheese Tart with Blackberry Preserves (pictured)
Pimento Cheese & Tomato Pie

You can see more Pi(e) Day documentation and ephemera here, and as always, find many more recipes via the Recipe Index. Have a happy Pi(e) Day-- and a very special one at that!

Apple Cider Doughnuts

Growing up it was an annual fall tradition to make the trip to Eberly's Orchard, near my grandparents' house in North Liberty, Indiana. Don Eberly was my mother's school bus driver, and ran an orchard and cider mill on his family farm. I have such fond memories of walking into the barn and watching the apples go up a long conveyor belt to be pressed into cider that would come out fresh from the spout and into tiny Dixie cups for sampling. While no orchard can quite compare to the one of my childhood nostalgia, I consider it a necessary autumn ritual to make a trip to a nearby orchard with friends.

While Eberly's didn't have doughnuts that I can recall (I'd likely remember if they did), I got used to them as orchard treat from my time in Michigan and Vermont. When I moved to North Carolina, I was shocked that I couldn't find apple cider donuts anywhere, so I started making my own. In the past few years, they've become a staple for backyard shows, brunches, and Halloween parties. 

I use smitten kitchen's recipe, adapted only slightly, the main difference being that I like to add a little cardamom to my dough and to the sugar coating. Getting the hang of frying can be tricky at first if you've never tried it-- don't be afraid to sample the first few to make sure you're hitting the sweet spot of a little crisp on the outside while still soft and cakey on the inside. 

Apple Cider Doughnuts

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Makes 1 1/2 dozen, depending on size

Ingredients:

1 cup apple cider

3 1⁄2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 scant teaspoon cinnamon + 1 1⁄2 Tablespoon additional for topping

1⁄2 teaspoon sea salt

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon cardamom

4 Tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar + 1 cup additional for topping

2 large eggs

1⁄2 c. buttermilk

A lot of veggie oil for frying

Directions:

1. Pour apple cider into a medium-sized saucepan, and over medium heat, bring cider to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low so the cider is gently simmering. Let simmer about 30 minutes until it has reduced to about 1⁄4 c. set aside and let cool.

2. In a medium bowl, combine all dry ingredients except for sugar and extra cinnamon and set aside.

3. With an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar on medium-high until smooth and creamy. Add the eggs, beating after each addition. Once the mixture is well-combined, reduce the speed to low and add the reduced apple cider and buttermilk, beating until just incorporated. Add the dry ingredients and mix until the dough is well-combined, smooth, and begins to come together in a ball.

4. On a cookie sheet lined with floured parchment paper, roll out the dough to about 1⁄2-inches thick. Move the dough and paper to a cookie sheet and put it in the freezer for about 20 minutes. Once the dough has firmed up in the freezer, remove and cut with a doughnut cutter (or ball jar and a shot glass). Place the doughnuts onto another cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Once you’ve cut all the doughnuts, place them in the fridge for about 20 minutes while you prepare your oil.

5. Now before we get to any hot grease situation, make sure you are wearing closed-toed shoes and are properly clothed—hot oil can be dangerous so be careful!  Using a pot or pan with tall sides, pour in enough veggie oil to reach a depth of approximately 3-inches. Put a candy thermometer in the side of the pan and slowly heat the oil over medium heat until it reaches 350 degrees F.

6. Meanwhile, prepare your post fry set-up: stack a few layers of paper towels on a plate for doughnut blotting. Mix the 1 cup sugar and 1 1⁄2 Tablespoon cinnamon (I like to add a pinch of cardamom too) together in a wide shallow bowl and set aside.

7. Now you're ready to fry. Add a few doughnuts at a time (3-4) to the hot oil and fry until they turn golden brown (this may take some testing and sampling), approximately 1 minute. Flip the doughnuts over and fry the other side for about 30 seconds-1 minute. Use a metal slotted spoon to remove the doughnuts from the grease and blot them on the paper towels. Then dip them into the cinnamon-sugar. 

8. Though tempting to eat right away (and you should definitely eat them while fresh and warm) try stringing the doughnuts using a sturdy rope or twine and tie them up, like a hammock, between two trees or posts. Challenge your pals to eat them from the string, no hands. Just a way to make a party that already has doughnuts, even better.



Related recipes:
Apple Galette
Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze
Apple Slump
Cardamom Doughnut Muffins

The Friday Pie Slice: North Carolina Edition

Alright. Gonna try to get this little segment goin' again.

1st slice. My friend April McGreger's new book Sweet Potatoes from UNC Press' "Savor The South" series just arrived in the mail. I can't wait to make sweet potato-habanero hot sauce, sweet potato sonker, sweet potato donut muffins, etc. etc. etc...

2nd slice. Last weekend I trekked down to Asheville, NC to hang out with pals at Harvest Records' Transfigurations II Festival. I made a little country-ish mix for my road trip and thought you might enjoy it too. Find it here.

3rd slice. On that trip I got to finally visit Tara/Smoke Signals Baking's beautiful little enclave in the hills of Marshall. If you're in the area, check out her upcoming pie classes and Saturday PIZZA NIGHTS!

The tasty crumbs. I also got to hang out and make pie for & eat pie with one of my favorite musicians and long-time pen pal Michael Hurley! Check his Nothing in the House post from a few years back.

Find past Friday Pie Slices here. 

Pictured above: Butterscotch Pie with a Meringue Top and Butter & Lard Crust

Pimento Cheese and Tomato Pie

I first made this Pimento Cheese and Tomato Pie when I was in grad school at the University of North Carolina. My friend Emily Wallace (the other Emily Elizabeth) was writing her Master's thesis on the history of pimento cheese and we wanted to combine our two food loves into one dish for a potluck at our professor Marcie Cohen Ferris' class.

I wasn't too familiar with pimento cheese until I moved to North Carolina. I'd had casual encounters with the stuff--at potlucks and in tubs at the grocery store--but without context, the mixture of cheddar cheese, pimentos, and mayonnaise just seemed like a sad deconstructed cheese ball to this Midwesterner. But I came to the Piedmont at just the right time for some pimento cheese schooling. Not only was the iconic sandwich spread becoming a trend across the U.S., appearing in everything from cheesecake to jalapeno poppers, but my fellow Emily Elizabeth was deeply entrenched in a study of pimento cheese's cultural history--which happened to hit upon some of my own research interests like women's domestic creativity and entrepreneurship.

According to Emily in this Indy Week article, pimento cheese was considered a dainty treat across the nation at the turn of the 20th century. Finger sandwiches made with the spread were a delicacy, particularly because the Spanish-imported pimentos were expensive and hard to come by. By 1915, Kraft had processed the spread and farmers began to grow their own pimentos stateside. 

In the Piedmont of North and South Carolina, textile mills offered lunches from dope carts, which sold sandwiches with various spreads, including pimento cheese. Soon small companies, often with women at the helm, supplied the food carts with sandwiches. Wallace says, "These women used food as a means to escape the drudgery of home or other unwanted employment, such as a textile mill. And pimento cheese—food that was considered part of a women's domestic domain—was a window not only into work but also business ownership, financial independence, and creativity in ways that were nonthreatening to gender roles of the time."

Now I eat my pimento cheese, whether as a sandwich, on my grits, or in a pie, with pride, knowing that it traces back to a long line of enterprising women, sure, but also because it tastes damn good. This pie recipe came to us from our friend April McGreger of Farmer's Daughter Brand Pickles and Preserves. She adapted it from The Southern Foodways Alliance's Community Cookbook. Though best with fresh tomatoes, it's become a Pi(e) Day staple and was included in this article on Pi(e) Day and female friendship that my friend Lora Smith and I wrote for Ronni Lundy's Zenchilada. 

Pimento Cheese and Tomato Pie

Adapted from The Southern Foodways Alliance Community Cookbook via April McGreger

Ingredients
Nothing in the House pie crust, halved
20 oz. tomatoes (canned whole San Marzanos or fresh)
2 Tablespoons fresh basil leaves, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1 1/4 cups prepared pimento cheese
1/3 cup panko bread crumbs or Ritz cracker crumbs
1 Tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
1/8 teaspoon garlic, finely chopped
1 Tablespoon parmesan cheese, grated
Fresh ground pepper

Directions
For the crust:
1. Prepare half of the Nothing-in-the-House pie crust as per the directions. Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out and fitting into a greased and floured 9-inch pie pan. Place pie plate in fridge for about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

2. Once you've let the pie crust chill, prick crust with a fork all over the bottom. Line crust with parchment paper and pie weights or dried beans and bake for 25 minutes. After 25 minutes, remove weights, reduce temperature to 350 degrees F and bake until crust is golden brown, about 20 minutes more. Let crust cool completely and leave oven on for the tomatoes.

For the filling:
1. Drain the tomatoes (if using canned--and keep the juice for Bloody Marys!) and dice them into 1-inch pieces. In a medium bowl combine the tomatoes, basil, salt and pepper, and half of the olive oil. Toss with your hands until all the tomatoes have a little oil on them. Pour the remaining half of the olive oil onto a sheet pan, rubbing with your hands to coat the bottom of the pan. Spread the tomatoes on the pan in a single layer. Roast the tomatoes in the oven about 15 minutes or until they dry up a little and start to shrivel slightly.

2. Fill the bottom of the pie crust with the tomato mixture. Spread the prepared pimento cheese over the tomatoes. In a small bowl, toss bread or Ritz cracker crumbs with melted butter, garlic, parmesan cheese and pepper, and sprinkle over the top of the pie.

3. Place pie in oven 10-15 minutes, just enough to warm and brown the crumb top. Remove from oven and serve slightly warm.

I've been making Stephanie of 3191's recipe for Pimento Cheese for a few years now--it's become a New Year's Eve tradition (served with Sweet Potato Biscuits) that my family now requests. But I wanted to include Emily Wallace's grandmother recipe--which is also delicious and shows some of the variation in style. Of course in North & South Carolina you're pretty much required to make it with Duke's mayonnaise--if you do make it with Hellmann's or another sweet mayo, I might not include the sugar.

Pimento Cheese
Adapted from Charlotte Heavner Wallace's (Emily Wallace's grandmother) recipe

Ingredients
1 lb. sharp cheddar (Charlotte used red-rind hoop cheese)
1 4-oz. jar pimentos, diced
4 Tablespoons mayonnaise (Duke's recommended)
1/2 teaspoon mustard
2 Tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 Tablespoon sugar
Dash vinegary hot sauce, like Cholula or Tapatio

Directions
1. Grate cheese into a medium-sized bowl and add entire contents of pimento jar. Mix with a wooden spoon. Add other ingredients and stir to combine. Taste and add any more of the above ingredients according to your preference.



Related recipes:
Phoebe Lawless' Rustic Cheese Pie
Savory Heirloom Tomato-Ricotta Galette
Tomato, Bacon & Jalapeno Pie

Last photo by Mackenzie Smith from Pi(e) Day 2014