Grapefruit Chess Pie

The other day my friend Mandy posted a quote from Michael Pollan's new book Cooked. It reads, "Is there any practice less selfish, any labor less alienated, any time less wasted, than preparing something delicious and nourishing for people you love?"

With one caveat, I would say that sentence pretty much sums up how I feel about pie baking. My primary motivation is not to develop my own skills, not necessarily for creative expression, or for a blog (sorry), but to make something to make something to share with friends and family. I like to bring pie with me when I go somewhere-- to a friend's house for dinner, a party, a show. It's celebratory, a way to show someone you care, yet still a small, humble gesture. It also explains why I often don't have "cross-section" shots on my blog-- it's not as nice to give someone a pie that's missing one slice.

My one alteration, though, is on the idea of alienation. I get (I think, though I haven't read the book and am only working from this quote), what Pollan is trying to say--that food preparation for loved ones is unalienating because it positions us in connection to the land, to season, to familial traditions or culture, to our farmers, our friends and family. But today and throughout history, I think the actual act of food preparation can still be an alienating experience for many, especially women. I'm thinking particularly of the often lonely experience of the housewife, today and throughout history, and the 1st wave material feminists' all for communal kitchens--what compelled Zona Gale in 1919 to state, "The private kitchen must go the way of the spinning wheel, of which it is the contemporary." Despite these womens' work, much of that lone experience did not change. It's something that still needs to be acknowledged and addressed with creative solutions.



But when we think of those meals that have the most meaning, its those prepared alongside friends and family, for friends and family, that we remember.This Grapefruit Chess Pie was one such shared pie I made surrounded by friends, for friends. My best friend Heather was in town from Chicago for the weekend, and I was putting on a show at my house--an old-time string band "battle of the sexes" of sorts, featuring my pals Ariel, Chloe, and Meredith of Locust Honey and Brent, Graham, and Lars as the one-off Cowboy Coffee Drinkers. But before the music, we had an afternoon cookout. Lars grilled hot dogs, Leslie brought a Green Gate Farm kale salad, Brent and Heather worked on the long-awaited smoked salmon deviled eggs, Meredith's family brought a full tray of homemade chicken wings, and I worked on this pie, and a few others.

The recipe comes from the Lee Brothers by way of A Sweet Spoonful. As for what it's all about, think pineapple upside down cake flavor in a custardy base with a sweet rye crust. It's a different rye crust than what I've used in the past, but I like it--it's also really easy to work with and hold it's shape beautifully, allowing me to experiment with a new crust fluting treatment. As the name suggests, it's a classic chess pie with a touch of early-spring citrus, a little something special for the common table.



Grapefruit Chess Pie with a Sweet Rye Crust
Adapted from The Lee Brothers Charleston Kitchen via A Sweet Spoonful

Ingredients
For crust (yields 2 9-inch pie crusts, so wrap and freeze one for later or make 2 pies!)
2/3 c. rye flour
1 1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 Tblsp. granulated sugar
16 Tblsp. (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
3-6 Tblsp. ice water (I had to use just about all 6)
1 egg yolk

For filling:
2 grapefruits
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
3 large egg whites
2 large egg yolks
1/2 c. heavy cream, room temperature
4 Tblsp. (half stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 c. granulated sugar
3 Tblsp. all-purpose flour
2 Tblsp. fine cornmeal, plus more for sprinkling.

Directions
For crust:
1. In a medium bowl, whisk together flours, salt, and sugar. With a pastry cutter or knife and fork, cut in the butter until the mixture is the texture of cornmeal and peas. Drizzle the vanilla extract over the dough and sprinkle in the water 1 Tblsp. at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until the dough begins to come together in clumps. Use your fingers to bring it all together in a ball. Divide the ball into two flat disks and wrap each in plastic wrap. Chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour and up to 1 day.

2. Once chilled, and you're ready to roll out your crust, preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Roll out one disk of dough on a lightly floured surface. Fit into a greased and floured pie plate and flute edges decoratively. Prick the bottom of the crust all over with a fork. Place a sheet of parchment paper inside the pie crust and fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake for 15 minutes, then remove from the oven and take out the parchment and weights. Brush crust with the egg yolk, reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F and back 5 more minutes.

For filling:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a small bowl, finely grate the zest of 1 of the grapefruits (it will yield about 1 tsp.) and set aside. Segment both grapefruits by trimming off the top and bottom so each end is flat. Then peel the fruit by placing a sharp knife at the point where the pith meets the fruit and cut with the curvature of the fruit.  

2. Over a medium bowl to catch the juice, cut along the segment membranes of the grapefruit to separate each segment. Strain the segments and reserve the juice and segments separately (you'll have about 1 c. segments and 1/3 c. juice). Whisk the zest and salt into the grapefruit juice.

3. Whisk the egg yolks and egg whites together in a large bowl (I used a standing mixer) until they are light and cream-colored, then whisk in the cream and melted butter. 

4. In a separate bowl, mix together the sugar, flour, and cornmeal. Add the dry ingredients to the egg mixture in thirds, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the grapefruit juice mixture until incorporated.

5. Pour the filling into the pie crust and arrange the grapefruit segments in the custard (they will float to the surface as they bake). Place the pie in the oven and bake 35-45 minutes until the top has browned and the center jiggles stiffly. Cool on a wire rack at least 20 minutes before serving. Serve slightly warm or at room temperature.

Related recipes:

Kentucky Lemon Chess Pie

Grapefruit & Pepper Meringue Tartlets

Grapefruit and Pepper Meringue Tartlets & A Practice Space

So what is it that I'm doing here, I sometimes wonder. Not what I'm doing here on Earth, but what am I doing here on the internet. Ha. I've always imagined myself as some type of luddite, resistant to and wary of digital technologies, and what's lost when things are no longer tacticle and tangible, mediated by screens. I've never stopped shooting film, I still don't have a smart phone, I quit Facebook the first three times I started, and some springtimes I go away to the woods for two months and unplug completely.

So what has happened? Here I am with a Facebook with multiple pages and groups, Twitter, a few Tumblrs (like this one and this one). And then there's this pie blog. Eight years in and I still shy away from the term "blogger." I stumbled upon it by accident, sort of. It was a way for far-away friends to keep in touch, to continue that connection that was initially made over pie in our Ann Arbor kitchens. It's since evolved, and become more of a solo project, and I keep going.



My friend Morgan says she thinks of her blog as a resume, a presentation of what you can do and what you've done. I like that and sometimes it's that for me. Other times, it feels like an ideal (though unpaid) job-- researching historical background or interviewing others, weaving in personal narrative, writing about something I love, while also getting to work with my hands to make something that actually exists in the world and that I can share with others. If my job could always have those elements, I would be quite content. And other times, I think it's just my own personal recipe catalog.

But another way I like to think about it is as a place for practice. Like a yoga practice, a music practice, or a sports practice-- something we do and maintain regularly, with a "better" goal but not necessarily an end goal. In thinking of it as a practice, it also allows a space for experimentation, for play. For becoming.  In a real sense, it gives me a space to practice my writing and research, photography, and baking. And it also gives me a space and a tool to connect.



One such connection was through Jess, of the blog Witchin' in the Kitchen. Though we had been meaning to meet for a while--I think we exchanged e-mails over a year ago--we didn't until recently, and the fact that we shared this interest in food and tradition and both had blogs propelled that. A few weekends ago, Jess came over to my kitchen, to work on a blog collaboration and take photos and just visit.

We ended up talking about a lot of these issues I mention above, wondering what a blog--food blogs, our blogs-- are for, what we present to the world and why. For me, and for Jess too, this raises challenging questions of how feminism aligns with our domestic pursuits, of how public voice meets private life (oversharing and undersharing), and how honesty meshes with curation. I started writing about some of this in grad school, for a project on feminism and women's food & lifestyle blogs, but the chat with Jess reminded me that I want to explore this more-- something I'd like to continue to do here in this "practice" space.

This writing too, was inspired by the comment thread that happened on Jess' very dear post on our afternoon in the kitchen together-- it seems that other women food bloggers and producers are thinking about these same issues and looking for conversation. That's exciting and inspiring and makes me realize that this medium itself is still quite new and evolving, and perhaps we'll eventually figure out how to more comfortably tackle these questions that seem difficult to understand and address now.

Alas, there's much more to be said about that in time. But for now, do go over to the Witchin' In the Kitchen post, read lovely Jess's words, and see her BEAUTIFUL photos that make my house and kitchen and tartlets look better than ever (you can also spot my aforementioned non-smart phone). There, and below, you can also get the recipe for these grapefruit and pepper meringue tartlets that are so patiently serving as a backdrop to my self-conscious blogger musings.

My friend Lora sent me this delightful recipe from French chef Rachel Khoo. Lora is a big fan of hers and her BBC Show "The Little Paris Kitchen"; she tried to go to Khoo's home kitchen when she was in Paris (she used to open it to guests), but she recently closed it because it became to popular. I haven't yet seen the show (perhaps it will catch on here like that other BBC show...), but these tartlets might just prompt me to do what it takes to find it here.

For what might seem to be a simple citrus meringue tartlet, this recipe is rather unique. I've never had a biscuit base quite like this in a tartlet--it's similar to shortbread cookie crust, and reminded me of corn muffins (though perhaps that was just because I made them in cupcake tins--there is no cornmeal in them). I absolutely LOVE the spice and grainy-ness that the pepper lends to the meringue, and I tried out a new technique of piping it onto the curd. I'm pretty sure Jess and I simultaneously squealed when it actually worked! 

Grapefruit and Pepper Meringue Tartlets

Adapted from Rachel Khoo

Makes about 6 small tartlets (I doubled this recipe when I made it)

Ingredients

For grapefruit curd:

Zest and 6 Tblsp. juice of 1 unwaxed grapefruit

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

3 1/2 oz. sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

1 heaping Tblsp. cornstarch

1 3/4 oz unsalted butter, cubed and at room temperature

For biscuit base:

2 3/4 oz. unsalted butter, softened

2 3/4 oz. sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

Zest of 1/2 lemon

2 large egg yolks

3 1/2 oz. all-purpose flour

2 tsp. baking powder

For Italian meringue:

3 1/2 oz. sugar

2 egg whites

pinch of salt

1/2 tsp. pepper

Directions

For grapefruit curd:

1. Pour 6 Tblsp. grapefruit juice in a small saucepan and whisk together with zest, sugar, salt, and eggs over low heat. Whisk in the cornstarch, stirring continuously (this keeps the eggs from curdling).

2. Once the curd is thickened (Khoo says to the consistency of puréed tomatoes), remove it from heat and whisk in butter, one cube at a time. Pour curd into a bowl and cover with plastic wrap, placing it directly on the surface of the curd. Refrigerate for at least an hour, preferably overnight.

For biscuit base:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and butter and flour 2x3 inch metal tart rings (I didn't have any that size so I used cupcake tins).

2. In the bowl of a standing mixer, cream together butter and sugar with the salt and lemon zest until fluffy and pale in color. Add egg yolks and continue beating.

3. Sift together the flour and baking powder, and add it to the butter mixture. Continue beating until the dough comes together in a smooth paste.

4. Here Khoo suggests piping the dough into the tart pans, but that didn't work for me (the dough was too thick and my pastry bag was a little wonky), so I scooped dough into the cupcake tins and created a little depression with the back of the spoon for the curd to sit. Bake for 12-15 minutes or until golden (they will resemble corn muffins in color). Remove biscuits from the tin/tart pans and let cool on a wire rack.

For the meringue:

1. Pour sugar into a saucepan with 1 fluid oz. water and place on high heat. Bring to about 244 degrees F, about 10 minutes. If you don't have a thermometer, you can test it by dropping a little bit of sugar syrup into a bowl of cold water--it will form a sticky ball when ready.

2. While sugar syrup is cooking, begin to beat the egg whites and salt with a mixer. Beat to a light froth, before soft peaks begin to form. When sugar syrup is done, drizzle it into the egg whites while beating. Add the pepper and continue to beat until the egg whites are glossy and stiff.

To assemble:

1. Place a scoop of curd on each biscuit. Scoop meringue into a pastry bag and pipe onto the curd decoratively. Place the biscuits under the broiler for about 1 minute (watch carefully!) until meringue is just slightly browned on the tips.

Almond and Grapefruit-Ginger Marmalade Crostata

My first taste of marmalade, likely taken at my Anglophile aunt and uncle's house, was much less sweet than I had expected. Having been enticed by the brilliant color and orange flavor (which was my favorite, although usually in the form of sherbet), I was not expecting the bitter aftertaste that came with them. As an adult though, I have developed much more of an appreciation for bitterness (and probably gotten more so myself), and now have quite an affection for the rind-inclusive preserve.

As I mentioned previously, I made a batch of grapefruit-ginger marmalade when I was home alone with an abundance of grapefruit. I wanted to try something from Pam Corbin's River Cottage Preserves Handbook, and auspiciously found a recipe for Seville orange marmalade with a grapefruit variation.

I added some ginger to the recipe, and canned the marmalade in jars of various sizes. With the help of the internet, I mailed them off to friends with a penchant for bittersweet (as it is quite bitter--be warned), many of whom offered up barters of handmade pottery, gif-filled stories, felted creatures and even an original jingle for Tarts by Tarts!

Despite how tempting it was to giveaway more jars in trade for special surprises, I did manage to save two jars for myself for eating and baking purposes. I was eyeing a few different jam-inclusive pies, including a Bakewell Tart (which I still plan to try made here), but remembered this almond and marmalade crostata I had been eyeing and realized it would be a fortuitous use of my grapefruit marmalade stash. I had wanted to make it for Pi(e) Day, but had a crazy week prior, so didn't find the time necessary to make the marmalade in advance. 

Let that be a warning to you, though. This marmalade requires overnight prep and is at least a 5-hour affair, what with the soaking of the rind (which I actually did overnight), cooking, and processing time (that is, if you plan to can it.) The recipe here will yield you at least 10 12-oz. jars, which is much more than you'd need for the tart, but with those extra jars, you make deals with your friends in exchange for all sorts of goodies. Plus once you've got the 'lade, this crust whips up in a jiffy.

Seville Ginger-Grapefruit Marmalade

Adapted from the River Cottage Preserves Handbook

Note: This recipe is for approximately 10 12-oz.  jars of marmalade and requires overnight prep and a cook time of four hours, so plan ahead!

Ingredients

2 1/4 pounds grapefruit, ruby red preferred

10 c. water

2/3 c. lemon juice

10 c. sugar 

1-2 tsp. fresh ginger, peeled and chopped finely

Directions

1. Scrub grapefruit and remove buttons at the top of the fruit and cut in half around the circumference. Squeeze out the juice into a large bowl and set aside. Using a large, sharp knife, slice the peel, pith and all, into very thin slices. Put the sliced peel in a bowl with the grapefruit juice and cover with 10 c. water. Let soak overnight and up to 24 hours.

2. Transfer the entire mixture to a large stock pot or preserving pan and bring to a boil. Once mixture is boiling, reduce heat and let simmer slowly, covered, until the peel is tender. This should take about 2 hours, and in that time the mixture should reduce by about one-third.

3. Stir in lemon juice, sugar, and ginger. Bring marmalade to a boil, stirring until all of the sugar has dissolved. Boil rapidly until the setting point is reached (or until mixture reads 220 degrees F), at least 30 minutes. Remove pot from the heat and let cool for 8-10 minutes. Gently stir to disperse any scum. Pour marmalade into warm, sterilized jars and seal immediately. Use within 2 years.

Almond and Grapefruit-Ginger Marmalade Crostata
Adapted from Desserts for Breakfast

Ingredients
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. slivered almonds
1/2 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
9 Tblsp. butter, cold and in chunks
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 tsp. almond extract
zest of one lemon (or small orange)
up to 1/4 c. water
1 1/4 c. grapefruit-ginger marmalade (or other marmalade of your choosing)
dash heavy cream (optional)
Turbinado sugar (optional, for dusting)

Directions
1. Combine flour, almonds, sugar, and baking powder in a food processor and pulse until almonds are finely ground. Add cold butter chunks to the almond mixture and process until mix is the size of small peas. Add egg, egg yolk, almond extract and lemon zest and pulse just until dough begins to form (NOTE: I found that this dough was quite dry and crumbly, so I ended up adding about 1/4 c. of water to the mixture. I think that if needed, more water could be added, as in the end, the dough was still rather crumbly and difficult to work with, but it tasted great and not too dry.) 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 at least one hour, preheat oven to 350 degrees F and lightly grease the bottom and sides of a 9-inch tart pan. Remove the dough from the fridge and divide into thirds. I rolled out the dough first(which was a little difficult, as it was crumbly), but you can also just press it into the bottom and sides of the tart pan. The bottom crust should be slightly thicker than the sides.

3. Scoop marmalade into the crust and spread a thin layer across the entirety of the tart. Roll out remaining dough and cut using a cookie cutter, or into long strips for a lattice top (again this proved too difficult due to the shortbread-quality of the dough, so I opted for cut circles). Lay cut crust on top of the marmalade in a decorative fashion.

4. Brush the top of the crostata with cream (could also use water or an egg-wash) and sprinkle with Turbinado sugar. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until crust is golden brown. Do not let it darken too much--it should look like shortbread. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature before serving. Enjoy with a dollop of honey-whipped cream on top (it pairs well with the bittersweet marmalade) and a cup of tea!

I originally envisioned this crostata as a sort of British tea time accompaniment, as I used a marmalade recipe from a British cookbook, and because this tart is particularly light, with a crust that is essentially a marzipan shortbread. I ended up taking it to a dinner party in Virginia for my beau's best friend's going away party, and while it was more cocktail hour than tea time, there was by chance, a number of Brits there (at least three)! I think that's one reason why it went over so well (a deeply-ingrained appreciation for marmalade, perhaps?) I topped it off with whipped cream sweetened with honey from Anarchy Apiaries at Rokeby. I'd definitely recommend a sweet whipped cream to temper the marmalade's bitterness, but all in all this is a lovely little tart with a crust that I'll definitely be incorporating in other recipes and trying out with other homemade jams and jellies.