Strawberry Rhubarb Galette

Lately, I've been thinking about loss and home. Not as separate thematic entities, but rather the Venn diagram overlap of the two. These thoughts have been prompted by my move to a new state and region that has also experienced great loss-- economic, cultural, environmental and where connection to home and place is so prominent and visceral. Maybe it's because I grew up in the Midwest, or have lived so many other places, but aside from a dew special places from my childhood, that deep tie to place and state and region is mostly foreign to me. On a recent trip home for my grandma Georgette's 85th birthday, though, I was confronted by my own personal feelings on "home loss" and nostalgia, for a place I can't really return to. 

My parents and my mother's siblings and their spouses, my brother and his girlfriend, and other extended family, all gathered at my grandma's home, a mostly-retiree condo community that she moved to after my grandfather died. Their house which she moved from sat on 20 acres of woods and pasture in North Liberty, deep in Indiana farm country. My grandparents were a part of that community, but also were a little different, evidenced by their unusual home built on land between cornfields on a country road. My grandfather, a painter, lithographer, and the former art director for Studebaker, designed and built their angular, energy-efficient mid-century modern dwelling, which was tiered with balconies, decks, and the outdoor back "secret stairs" that I liked to take upon my arrival to "surprise" my grandmother who was undoubtedly waiting to greet me at the kitchen window. Their porches and yard were peppered with abstract sculptures, like the sundial "dinosaur" that stood in the center of my grandmother's flower bed, and my grandfather studio, housing his lithograph press, stood just on the other side of the driveway en route to the fishing pond. 

In Southern culture, literature in particular, there's a lot of talk about "the home place." That concept doesn't appear in the Midwest so much, maybe because so many Midwesterners were migrants with a home place elsewhere-- the south, east, or another country altogether. But that weird house on Riley Road was my home place, where extended family would gather for holidays and big Sunday meals every week of my childhood, and where my brother and I were free to roam, a thrill for us inner-city kids.

It's somewhat tangential but relevant, I think, to share that my family had actually been displaced from our original home place-- land I never knew when it was ours, but was the home of my great-grandparents, grandparents, mother and her siblings. That previous property, where my grandfather had also build a house of his own design, was taken away by the state via eminent domain for the creation of a state park that the government had hoped would bring in crucial tourist dollars. It never really did, and I have to wonder if that has something to do with the displacement of the many families who lived there and stayed in the community-- families who were also still obligated  to pay the park entrance fee to walk to land that still bears no sign that it was once theirs. Maybe I've absorbed some bitterness about it. Though that doesn't subtract from the connection I felt and still feel to the familial home I knew, it adds another inherited layer to my own sense of loss, and I imagine that feeling is even sharper for my mom and her siblings.

One of the things I remember clearly from the home place I knew were the rhubarb plants that lined my grandma's raised bed. They were the biggest rhubarb plants I've ever seen, their toxic leaves almost Jurassic, served as ample shade for the two grey cats, Blue and Pinkie, and were last-minute hiding places for our hide 'n' go seek games at dusk. The edible stalks were bright red and thick-- making the pallid and limp green and pink stalks I sometimes get at the grocery store seem like an entirely different species. 

The day before my grandma's birthday party, my mom, aunts, uncle, and I had lunch at Georgette's (or as my dad and uncles call her, "Big Gette") house. We made cold cut sandwiches, and after we were done, my grandma apologetically brought a store-bought rhubarb crisp to the table, saying it was store bought because she couldn't find any rhubarb at the store, adding that she's never found any as good as the rhubarb she used to grow on Riley Rd. When she served it, my mom and aunt refused a slice, but my uncle, now a Floridian who doesn't come across much rhubarb anymore obliged, and as a ever-rhubarb fan with an ample sweet tooth, I did too. 

I don't blame or judge my grandma for buying a store-bought rhubarb crisp. Rather, I applaud her for, after long last, allowing someone else to do some work for her- at 85, a mother of 5, and a grandmother of 5,  and the family matriarch, she definitely deserves it. The crisp wasn't bad, but it didn't taste anything like rhubarb, the cloying taste of sugar and over-use of preservatives and thickener completely masking any of that biting tartness we were after. But as we sat there chewing, here in a house that despite its cookie-cutie exterior exudes the magic of my grandmother, I realized that what I was tasting was the taste of home and loss, and it was much too sweet. 

Strawberry Rhubarb Galette
Adapted from Food & Wine

Ingredients
Nothing in the House pie crust
2 cups (1 pint) strawberries, sliced thick
1 pound rhubarb stalks, cut into pieces
1/2 - 3/4 cup sugar, depending on your tartness preference
2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon of your favorite bitters (I used black cardamom bitters; or substitute vanilla extract)
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
2 Tablespoons whole milk
Turbinado sugar

Directions
1. Prepare Nothing in the House pie crust as per the directions here. Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out into a 13-14 inch circle on a sheet of parchment paper or a Silpat. Put the rolled crust and parchment/Silpat on a cookie sheet and return it to the fridge while you prepare the filling. 

2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. In a large bowl, mix together sliced strawberries, rhubarb pieces, sugar, flour, lemon juice and bitters (or vanilla extract). 

3. Remove rolled crust from fridge and spread the fruit filling over the pastry, leaving a 2-inch edge. Fold the edge over the filling, pleating at the corners. Dot the filling with butter pieces. Brush crust with milk and sprinkle with Turbinado sugar. 

4. Place the galette in the oven and bake on the middle rack for 1 hour or until fruit is bubbling and the pastry is golden brown. Let cool before slicing into wedges and serving with vanilla ice cream. 

Related recipes:
4 & 20 Blackbirds' Rhubarb Pie
Rhubarb Meringue Tart with Pecan Shortbread Crust
Rhubarb Tart
Simple Rhubarb Tart
Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Strawberry Rhubarb and Wine-Soaked Fig Rustic Tart

A Berry Pie Round-Up for the 4th of July

I'm not always the most patriotic person. Lately I've been pretty heartbroken and confused about the state of our country and it's hard to feel like we've really made progress in dismantling institutionalized racism and injustice. But there have also been real sparks of hope: Marriage equality. Bree Newsome. Obama's "Amazing Grace."

Sometimes food-- not to mention food blogging (and about pies no less)--in the context of all of this can feel trivial and frivolous. But food can also be that glimmer of hope, a reminder of our culture and people power. It's sustenance to ground us in place, a reason to gather, something for the hands and body to do while the mind is reeling.

This fourth of July will be a space to think about it all-- the contradictions, the tragedies, the successes. A good time to catch up on some reading and writing, share some food with friends, celebrate the progress we've made as a country and think about what's next.

Here's a round-up of some berry pies and desserts from this blog and other favorites for your holiday gatherings. I'm not sure what I'll whip up this weekend, but I'm planning to let the berries lead the way.

Blueberries
Blueberry Buckle
Blueberry Hand Pies
Blueberry Icebox Pie
Blueberry Shortcakes with Whipped Cream Cheese
Plum and Blueberry Galette

Raspberries & Blackberries
Berry Tartlets
Lime & Raspberry Italian Meringue Pie
Peach Blackberry Cobbler
Peach Blackberry Pie
Wild Blackberry Lemon-Goat Cheese Tart

Strawberries
Pickled Strawberry Piescream Sandwiches
Strawberry Creme Tart
Strawberry & Fresh Cheese Tart
Strawberry Icebox Pie
Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Mixed Berries
Berry & Apricot Galettes with Saffron
Berry Cobbler
Campfire Skillet Crisp
Currant Syrup, Switchel, and Gooseberry-Black Cap Pie
Gooseberry-Apricot 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

Strawberry Crème Tart

I'm sitting in my non-air conditioned third floor room, sweating, and thinking about last weekend. It's not that the weekend wasn't hot too--our air conditioner has been broken since Friday night. But in a way, the heat made those non-work days all the more summer-glorious. As the first (unofficial) weekend of summer, I hope it will prove to be a harbinger of many perfect summer weekends to come.

On Saturday morning (after a going away party with this chocolate & strawberry pocky pie), I got up and went to the Mt. Pleasant Farmers' Market, where I picked up a quart of strawberries, a bunch of asparagus, and a hot Asian bun; ran into friends at the coffee shop; went home; wrote; and read in the hammock for a few hours. Not too shabby. Sunday, though, was the quintessential summer day, with a trip to the doughnut shop (Woodmoor Pastry Shop) en route to a private swimming hole outside of Columbia, Maryland. I had been given scant directions (which added to the fun), so I wasn't sure we'd even find it and even when we did finally come upon the little quarry in the woods, we were initially reluctant to jump in, due to snake sightings and pond murk. But we trekked around to where the water was clearer, colder, and sunlit, and dove (or shimmied, rather) in. On the way home we stopped at both the nearby roadside biker bar and ice cream stand and filled ourselves with beer-by-the-bucket and chocolate-vanilla twist cones, respectively.

But that was just the warm-up for Tex Critter and the Snake Motel Six (the group name that emerged, as group names often do, when snakes and woods walks are involved), 'cause there was a a full-fledged stoop-side cook-out in the works. The menu included but was not limited to: dogs and brats, homemade potato salad, grilled asparagus, baked beans, watermelon salad, and a whole lotta Budweiser. The whole shebang went late into the night, capped off with a few rounds of Mad Libs and a game of 1990s-era Trivial Pursuit.

It could really have only been more perfect if I was able to tell you that I made this strawberry crème tart for said cookout. But there was not enough time in our jam-packed day for that, and we ate choco tacos for dessert. In actuality, I made this strawberry crème tart the day before, for (another) going- away-party-that-wasn't.

For the recipe, I went back to my copy of Michel Roux's Pastry, which I haven't used as much as I should (the two recipes I've tried from it--a chocolate raspberry tart and apple tart-- were both stellar) and found a simple French-style strawberry tart, which uses both chantilly cream and crème pâtissière and plain, unadulterated strawberries. It's essentially the French version of strawberry shortcake, replacing the biscuit with pâte sucrée, whipped cream for a more refined "crème", but sticking with the heaping with fresh berries. Here's the recipe, adapted from Michel Roux.

Strawberry Crème Tart
Adapted from Michel Roux's Pastry

Ingredients
For pâte sucrée:
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. butter, cubed and slightly softened
1 c. confectioner's sugar, sifted
pinch of salt
2 large eggs, room temperature

For chantilly cream:
1 c. whipping cream, chilled
1/4 c. confectioner's sugar
pinch of vanilla bean seeds, scraped from the fresh bean
 
For crème pâtissière:
3 large egg yolks
1/4 c. + 1 Tblsp. sugar
1/8 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. whole milk
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise (if you don't want to spring for vanilla bean, try using the zest of 1 orange instead)

For strawberries & garnish:
4-5 c. fresh strawberries, hulled
mint sprigs (for garnish, optional)
additional confectioner's sugar (for dusting, optional) 

Directions
For pâte sucrée:
1. Put flour in a mound on the counter or rolling mat and make a well. Add cubed butter, confectioner's sugar, and salt, and mix together with your fingertips until dough becomes slightly grainy.
2. Make another well and add the eggs, working them into the flour mixture with your fingertips until the dough begins to come together. When well combined, knead the dough a few times with the palm of your hand until smooth. Roll the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap, and let chill in the fridge for 1-2 hours.
3. While dough is chilling, you may want to prepare your the chantilly cream and crème pâtissière (see below). Once the dough is chilled, unwrap and roll out onto a floured surface until it forms a circle and is about 1/8-inch thick. Transfer it to a greased and floured 9- or 10-inch tart ring, and let chill in the fridge for 20 more minutes before baking.

For chantilly cream & crème pâtissière:
1. While dough is chilling, prepare the creams. For the chantilly cream, put chilled whipping cream, confectioner's sugar, and vanilla bean seeds into the bowl of a standing mixer and beat at medium speed for 1-2 minutes. Increase the speed to high and beat for an additional 3-4 minutes until the cream begins to thicken to form medium peaks. Do not overbeat. If you're not ready to use the chantilly cream right away, you can keep it in the fridge for p to 24 hours.

2. For crème pâtissière, whisk egg yolks and one-third of the sugar together in a bowl until mixture forms a light ribbon consistency. Whisk in the flour until well combined. In a medium saucepan, heat the milk with the remaining sugar and the vanilla bean. When it comes to a boil, immediately pour it onto the egg yolk mixture, stirring continuously. Mix until well combined, then return entire mixture to the saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking constantly. Let bubble for 2 minutes, then pour into a bowl. To prevent a skin from forming, dust the crème with confectioner's sugar. Let cool to room temperature, then chill in the fridge until cold. It can be kept in the fridge up to 3 days. Make sure to remove the vanilla bean before you pour it into the pie crust!

For baking and assembly:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Prick the base of the chilled pastry shell and line with parchment paper and pie weights. Bake for about 25 minutes, then remove parchment and pie weights and bake for an additional 15 minutes until crust is fully baked. Take from oven and let cool.

2. Meanwhile, halve the strawberries if they are large or leave them whole if they are large. In a medium bowl, gently fold the chantilly cream into crème pâtissière and fill the tart crust with the cream mixture. Arrange the strawberries on top of the cream, heaping them up in the middle. Return to the fridge to let everything set, at least 20 minutes, or eat right away (but maybe not if your kitchen is hot like mine!). Before eating, dust strawberries with confectioner's sugar and garnish with a few mint sprigs, if desired. Enjoy!

Considering the lack of air conditioning in my house at the time, this tart proved a little more challenging than it should have been, particularly because, as you'll notice in the recipe, I tried the pâte sucrée-making technique where you essentially make a pile of flour, then work in the butter and egg with your hands. Not so easy when it's 90 degrees in the kitchen! I got quite the hot buttery mess all over my fingers, but did eventually get the crust to form together.

And though I did chill both creams/(crèmes) for several hours, they started getting a little runny as soon as they hit the hot house temps. As you might be able to tell from the photos, I also got a little overly ambitious with the amount of crème/cream (I'm struggling with the appropriate spelling here, clearly) I scooped into the crust.

HOWEVER. Despite all these hardships, this tart is a delight, perfect for your Memorial Day cookout imaginary dessert, going away party that wasn't, or some party in the future that will actually happen.

Strawberry Icebox Pie

It's that time. The time of the narrow overlap between rhubarb season and strawberry season. When I lived up north, the reasoning behind the strawberry-rhubarb pie, though one of my all-time favorites, was puzzling, as the two fruits never seemed to coincide seasonally. Down in the more southern climes, though, you can generally acquire both fruits (or the fruit and vegetable?) in one May farmers' market trip.

As I mentioned in the last post, this past weekend finally felt like we were on the brink of summer. It was warm, all the trees were finally brilliant green and leafed-out, and I was even nursing a bit of a sunburn from the weekend prior. On our way back from Korean brunch on Saturday morning, we drove past the Mt. Pleasant Farmers' Market. As we approached, I slowed down to a cruising speed, and craned my neck out the window. "Do you see strawberries?" I asked Brent. "Totally," he replied. I slammed on the brakes "REALLY?!!" "What? No." But by then I had already pulled the car over and focused my strawberry tracking beam eyes on stacks of green quart boxes filled with those red berries.

Maybe my special vision only works on berries, though, because I didn't spot any rhubarb at the market. But no matter, I knew that for my inaugural dessert of berry season, I wanted to make this oh-so-summery strawberry icebox pie, recipe from Nancie McDermott.

As Nancie says in her book, Southern Pies, many icebox pies use gelatin to set it up, this filling is essentially just a quick strawberry jam, folded in with whipped cream, making it similar to the classic British dessert, fool. The strawberries-and-cream also make it rather Wimbledon-esque, which signals the arrival of summer. Though this pie might have some Brit-leanings, it is distinctly American, and I might be jumping the gun here, it could be just the perfect thing for your 4th of July tennis viewing party (which coincides with the men's quarterfinals this year).

Say strawberries aren't your thing, though? Perhaps you have a tree-full of mulberries in your backyard or happened upon a black raspberry patch in the park. Another thing that's superb about this pie is that it's incredibly versatile. Substitute blueberries or blackberries or raspberries for the strawberries, and you've got a recipe that will last you all summer long. In fact, you could use any type of jam, adding other flavors like ginger, vanilla, mint...the possibilities are endless. You could also try different crusts, like this pecan shortbread, almond shortbread, or for something tropical, how 'bout a gingersnap-macadamia? Whatever variation you try, this is the perfect pie to come home to after a day spent poolside (or court side), out in the sun.

Strawberry Icebox Pie
Adapted from Nancie McDermott's Southern Pies

Ingredients
For Crust:
1 1/4 c. graham cracker crumbs (about 15 cracker squares)
3 Tblsp. sugar
1/3 c. butter, melted

For Filling:
1/3 c. cornstarch
1/3 c. water
6 c. hulled and coarsely chopped strawberries, ideally fresh (though frozen is okay too!)
1 c. sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
2 tsp. butter
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/4 c. heavy cream
2 c. fresh strawberries, sliced (for garnish, optional)

Directions
For Crust:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Put graham crackers in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until crackers are finely ground into crumbs. Add sugar and melted butter 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 lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Place on a cooling rack and let cool to room temperature before adding the filling.

For Filling: 
1. Combine cornstarch and water in a small bowl, whisking until all lumps are dissolved. Set aside.

2. Combine hulled and chopped strawberries, sugar, and salt in a medium saucepan. Cook on medium heat until the strawberry mixture comes to a low boil. Stirring often, continue to cook the mixture until a sauce begins to form, about 5 minutes.

3. Re-whisk the cornstarch and water mixture and add it to the saucepan. Continue to cook and stir the sauce until it boils again, becomes thick and berries soften, approximately 3-4 minutes longer. Remove from the heat, stir in the butter and vanilla and set aside to cool to room temperature.

4. Meanwhile, whip the cream in a large bowl until it becomes very thick and holds round medium peaks. Stir in the strawberry jam mixture and gently it in with the cream until evenly combined. Pour filling into the graham cracker crust and refrigerate for at least 3-4 hours, until pie is very cool and the filling is quite firm. Serve cold, with extra strawberries and/or additional whipped cream. Strawberries and cream!

Just made a trip to the strawberry patch? Check out these these other recipes for a classic strawberry pie, strawberry-apricot pie (and a song), or a strawberry-rhubarb and wine-soaked fig rustic tart.

P.S. After years of using a pretty crappy digital point-and-shoot, I finally have a great new camera, a birthday present from my awesome dad, who is, in fact, a professional photographer. I still need to learn to use it a little better (note the middle photo). But bigger and better photos, here we come!

Strawberry Pie

With the farmer's markets overflowing with fresh, juicy strawberries, I couldn't resist the urge to buy a few pints and make a strawberry pie.

My last attempt at a strawberry pie was last summer. I was making the pie for a party and left it in the refrigerator to chill as guests arrived. When I went to take it out a few hours later, a piece had been cut out (a pie bandit!) and the filling had spilled into the space. Though delicious, the pie had not set very well, but I never knew if the recipe or the pie bandit was to blame.

This year, I used a slightly different recipe and kept friends far from the fridge as the pie chilled. And guess what? It set! And it was bursting with fresh strawberry flavor.

Strawberry Pie

Ingredients:

1 9-inch pie crust, baked

2 pounds fresh strawberries, rinsed and hulled

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice, freshly squeezed

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 envelope unflavored powdered gelatin

2 tablespoons cold water

Slice about 3 cups of the strawberries into quarters. Either crush the berries with a fork or process in a food processor until mushy. You should have about 1 1/2 cups crushed berries. Place the crushed berries in a saucepan over medium heat with the sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice and salt and stir to combine. Bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally until the mixture begins to thicken slightly, about 5-7 minutes.

While the mixture is cooking, soften the gelatin in the cold water and set aside.

Remove berry mixture from the heat, add the softened gelatin and stir until the gelatin has dissolved. Set aside to cool to almost room temperature.

With the remaining berries, set aside the most attractive ones and slice in half (these will go decoratively on the top of the pie). Cut the rest into quarters and fold them into the cooled mixture. Pour this mixture into the baked pie shell then arrange the halved berries on top. Chill in the refrigerator until set, at least 2 hours or overnight before serving.

Adapted from: Sing For Your Supper

O Pi(e)-O-Neers!

The next morning Angélique, Amédée's wife, was in the kitchen baking pies, assisted by Old Miss Chevalier. Between the mixing-board and the stove stood the old cradle that had been Amédée's an in it was his black-eyed son. As Angélique, flushed and excited, with flour on her hands, stopped to smile at the baby, Emil Bergson road up to the kitchen door on his mare and dismounted.

-Willa Cather, O Pioneers!

Our friend, the lovely and talented Ms. Becky Wright of Philadelphia, PA held a "Pie and Pioneers" (note the Conestoga wagon in the above photograph) event at her apartment a few weeks ago. She made 20 flavors, all by hand from scratch. Here are a few of the highlights...

apple (with a heart)

banana cream (whole wheat crust)

black bottom chocolate cream

butterscotch cream (with birds)

california prune

peach (with a braid!)

plum (it had to be cooked in a brown paper bag!)

raspberry glacé

strawberry

The other flavors were pecan, chocolate pecan, peaches 'n' cream, caramel raisin walnut, ginger-pear, sour cream apple, pumpkin, lemon meringue, coconut cream, dark cherry, and cranberry-blueberry. Way to go Philly Pie and Pi(e)-o-neers!

Speaking of pi(e)...what you got cookin' for pi(e) day 3.14?!

Strawn's Strawberry Pie

On a recent road trip from Dallas to the border town of Shreveport, Louisiana, I had the opportunity to sample a strawberry pie. Strawn's Eat Shop has been serving hamburgers, fried chicken, and fresh ice-box strawberry pies since 1944.

I had never experienced a strawberry pie, and was expecting something syrupy and mushy. But the strawberries were fresh, flavorful and firm. The heavy topping of homemade whipped cream made the pie double dang good.