Pie on a Windowsill by Three Word Phrase

Pie cooling on a windowsill. I love that classic image of Americana. I've referenced it a few times on Nothing-in-the-House and its appeared in other moments in my life. It's in a lyric of 'Pie For Breakfast,' the song my friend Michelle wrote for our old 7-piece all-girl domestic noise band Home Items. It's in this "Pie Thief Hits Baltimore" shenanigans sent in by my friend and Plate-Lickers Club President, Jamie. And I had mini-pies a-cooling on the windowsill when my friends Ben and Angela made their first stop at my house in their going-away scavenger hunt. A photo from that also serves as the Nothing-in-the-House banner and logo!

So when my friend Lars posted this pie-on-the-windowsill edition of the Three Word Phrase comic, I wrote to the author Ryan to see if we could throw it up on the blog. He agreed. You may not want to do any heavy baking this weekend, let alone have the windows open, with temperatures as high as they are, but let this be an inspiration to you to set your pies out to cool on a windowsill one of these days. Or better yet, go find some a-coolin' to steal...in a neighborly way.

300th post!

It's the 300th post!!! I think that and the fact that we're celebrating our 7th year means that Nothing-in-the-House is beyond elderly in blog years. It's been fun to go back and see our progression from that first awkward post in 2005 (It reads 2006, but Margaret accidentally deleted some of the early posts and had to restore them) when Margaret and I were just writing for a few friends, or each other. It's also so lovely to have an extensive record of pies and songs and moments shared with friends and family; I think that archive of recipes, words and photos is one of the best parts of having this little site, and one of my primary motivations for keeping it chooglin' along

Since then, we've had lots of guest contributors and interviews with pie mavens around the country, archival photographs and stories, 4 Pi(e) Days (3.14) and over 100 recipes. We've expanded our reach and readership via Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, outside writing, press, and baking endeavors (Tarts by Tarts!) and deepened the content with more storytelling, historical context, and other voices. With its community of writers, pals, and readers, the pie blog has also helped me, and hopefully others, grow as a writer, photographer, and baker. And perhaps most indicatively, the Plate-Lickers Club memership is forever increasing and the Pie Enjoyment Zone is occupied regularly!

So thanks for being a part of Nothing-in-the-House in whatever way you are--contributor, reader, baker, or just a pie enthusiast! As always, feel free to get in touch if you have a question, contribution, idea or whatever! And thanks for reading these missives and ogling these pie slices. Here's to many more helpings.

Blueberry Icebox Pie

We used to go blueberry picking every summer. We'd pile in the red minivan with armloads of tupperware, drive out to the blueberry farm, and collect our buckets, strapping them around out waists with the old belts they had for borrowing. As the berries ker-plinked, ker-planked, ker-plunked into the bottom of the bucket, I imagined that I was a character in Blueberries for Sal, wandering off along the hillside, straying from my mother and happening upon a mama bear. Though these were farmed, high-bush blueberries (which I called bluebellies, since they look like little blue belly buttons), instead of wild low-bush berries, and there were certainly no bears nearby, it was still easy to pretend.

I haven't been berry picking yet this summer, though I have been picking berries out at the farmers' market, and a few weekends ago, it was fresh blueberries at the Takoma Park Market. I brought them home and whipped them up into a blueberry icebox pie, based on Nancie McDermott's recipe for a strawberry icebox pie, which I made about a month ago. As I said before, this recipe is a wonder, because it's super simple and incredibly versatile. Try it with raspberries or peaches, strawberries or bluebellies or some kind of summery combination--it'll always be good. It also requires little stove & oven time and a lot of refrigeration time, so you don't have to mess around with melted-butter crust dough while you sweat it out in your hot kitchen. Though it might not be a real berry-picking summer so far, I hereby declare this the summer of the icebox pie.

Blueberry Icebox Pie
An adaptation of Nancie McDermott's Strawberry Icebox Pie recipe from Southern Pies

Ingredients
For crust:
1 1/4 c. gingersnap crumbs
3 Tblsp. sugar
1/3 c. butter, melted

For filling:
1/3 c. cornstarch
1/3 c. water
5 c. blueberries, ideally fresh (though frozen is okay too!)
1 c. sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tsp. lemon zest
2 tsp. butter
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/4 c. heavy cream + 1 c. (extra cup is for topping, optional)
1 c. additional fresh blueberries, (for garnish, optional)

Directions
For crust:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Put gingersnaps 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 blueberries, sugar, salt, and lemon zest in a medium saucepan. Cook on medium heat until the blueberry 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 1 1/4c. cream in a large bowl until it becomes very thick and holds round medium peaks. Stir in the blueberry jam mixture and gently it in with the cream until evenly combined. Pour filling into the gingersnap crust and refrigerate for at least 3-4 hours, until pie is very cool and the filling is quite firm. Serve cold, with extra blueberries and topped with additional whipped cream.

Though this pie was originally intended for a Fort Reno picnic or a post-baseball game (Go Nats) treat, I ended up getting a wicked migraine that lasted for days, so was not able to partake in any of those summer activities, let alone this pie. However, it was at the ready in the fridge when my parents stopped by for a visit last week, and we enjoyed a slice after a delicious pizza dinner out at Two Amy's.

Lime & Raspberry Italian Meringue Pie

Last summer, in the airport on a work trip, I picked up a copy of Bon Appetit--I know because my boarding pass just fell out from between the pages. I normally don't buy magazines, but I had two good reasons. The first was that my chef friend Abra, and her venture, Bare Knuckle Farm was featured inside. With her business partner Jess, the two have established a diversified vegetable, fruit, pig and chicken farm on Jess' grandfather's cherry orchard outside of Traverse City, Michigan. Chef Mario Batali, who has a summer home up there, has taken a liking to them, and featured their stand in his round-up of the Leelanau Penninsla. Aside from friend-support and bragging rights), I was headed up to the farm for Abra & her beau Erik's wedding later in the summer, and wanted the scoop (at least Batali's take) on the area.

The other reason for picking up the magazine, was that it featured pie on the cover, and a few recipes inside that I wanted to try. Though I didn't get around to making any last summer, I kept the issue in a pile of books by my bed, and miraculously remembered I had it last weekend when I was fixin' to make a pie for my friend Marion's birthday.

Luckily there was quite a selection at the farmers' market that day, and though here were no blackberries for this featured Lime and Blackberry Italian Meringue Pie, there were raspberries, so I decided to swap them out for their sister berry in the recipe.


Lime & Raspberry Italian Meringue Pie

Adapted from the August 2011 Bon Appétit

Ingredients

Nothing-in-the-House pie crust, halved

For lime curd:

1 c. fresh lime juice

3 large eggs

3 large egg yolks (reserve whites for the meringue)

3/4 c. sugar

1/2 c. (1 stick) butter, room temperature

1/2 tsp. unflavored gelatin

3/4 c. heavy cream, chilled

For raspberry compote:

1 c. fruity red wine, like Shiraz or Cabernet Sauvignon

1/2 c. sugar

3 c. fresh raspberries (about 1 1/2 pints)

For meringue:

3 large egg whites, room temp. (can use whites from the yolks used for the curd)

1 c. sugar

2 Tblsp. corn syrup

1/8 tsp. salt

1 c. raspberries (about 1/2 pint, optional, for garnish)

Directions

For 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. Return bottom crust to fridge for about 20 minutes while you prepare the rest of the pie and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

2. Once you've let the pie crust chill (perhaps you've made the lime crust in the meantime), using a fork, prick chilled crust 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.

For lime curd:

1. Stir lime juice, eggs, egg yolks, and sugar together in a medium metal bowl or top of a double boiler.  Set bowl over a large saucepan of simmering hot water  and whisk until mixture has thickened and thermometer reads 175 degrees F, about 15 minutes. Remove saucepan from heat and add butter, cut into Tblsp. size pieces. Whisk between each addition to melt and blend. Once curd has cooled, place plastic wrap directly onto its surface, and chill in the fridge until cold, about 2 hours (Can be made about 2 days ahead).

2. Meanwhile, sprinkle gelatin over 2 Tblsp. of water in a small bowl. Whisk briefly and let stand until gelatin is soft, about 10 minutes. Set aside. With an electric mixer, beat cream until stiff peaks form. Add gelatin mixture to the cream and continue beating until just before stiff peaks form. Fold whipped cream into lime curd, cover and chill. 

For raspberry compote:
1. Pour red wine, sugar, and 1/2 c. water in a medium saucepan and bring to a simmer over high heat. Once at a gentle simmer, reduce heat to medium and simmer until mixture is reduced to about 1/2 c., about 20-25 minutes. Once reduced, let cool.

2. Add 3 c. of berries to the mixture and gently fold to coat. Spread the compote in an even layer over the baked pie crust. Then spoon lime curd over the berries, and chill for 1 hour.

For the meringue:
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Place egg whites in the bowl of a standing mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form and set aside. 

2. Stir sugar, corn syrup and 1/4 c. water in a medium saucepan over low heat until sugar dissolves. Insert a candy thermometer in the saucepan and increase heat to medium-high. Boil without stirring, occasionally swirling pan, until thermometer registers 238 degrees F, 6-8 minutes. Remove from heat.

3. Meanwhile, beat whites again briefly until soft peaks form. Slowly pour hot sugar mixture down the side of the bowl into the whites and beat until meringue is firm and has a glossy sheen.  Continue to beat until cool, about 4 minutes. Spoon meringue over the lime curd, leaving about a 1-inch border. Sculpt decoratively with the back of a spoon and tuck 1 c. raspberries in and around the meringue.

4. Bake pie until meringue is toasted, about 3-5 minutes.  Chill pie for about a half-hour before serving, if you can wait that long! Keep in the fridge until it's gone.

I like the simple but genius idea employed here--to add a fresh fruit compote bottom layer and berry garnish to a classic meringue. This is another one of those recipes that could be used with so many different variations--lemon meringue with blueberry compote! rhubarb meringue with strawberry compote! strawberry meringue with rhubarb compote! chocolate meringue with cherry compote! So many delicious combinations for sampling.

A word of caution for this pie though--it is time consuming. Make sure to plan ahead and consider making the dough and lime curd the day ahead. All the steps made me almost miss Marion's birthday picnic in the park!

Sour Cherry Pie

It's getting to be that gloriously overwhelming time of year when just about everything is ripe. Just last week at the Mt. Pleasant Farmers' Market there were strawberries, raspberries, nectarines, apples, and sweet and sour cherries. So much fruit, so much pie-making potential. I wandered back and forth amongst the stalls a few times, caught, as I often am, in indecision. I bought some raspberries (I'll show you what I made with them soon), and then remembered that I had some dear Michigan friends coming to play a show at my house on Monday. Of course! Cherries. I had to get tart cherries.

It is a little-known (at least seems to be when I tell people) that Michigan, Traverse City, specifically is the cherry capital of the world. The mitten state grows about 75% of the nation's tart cherries. Thus growing up not too far from the capital, I was spoiled with an extended season of the fruit and all their products--jams and pies, salsas and syrups. This year, though, the Michigan cherry crop is sadly depleted, due to extreme spring weather, and down here in the mid-atlantic, tart cherries are harder to come by and the season is rather fleeting. All the more reason, then, to buy a few pints at the Farmers' Market, bring them home, put them in a pie to share it with true cherry natives. Just easing another bout of that Michigan summer nostalgia I've been feeling lately.



I perused a few different recipes and borrowed a little bit from each for my own sour cherry pie rendition. I highly recommend getting your hands on a cherry pitter--before I had one I'd pit them by hand, which was hand-staining and time-consuming, especially when you consider that there about 250 cherries in each cherry pie. A lattice top is traditional, but you could get creative, or opt for a standard double crust if you're pressed for time and not up for all that weaving.


Sour Cherry Pie
An amalgamation of several recipes including Lottie + Doof & Martha Stewart

Ingredients:
Nothing-in-the-House pie crust recipe
1 c. sugar
3 Tblsp. cornstarch
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise and seeds scraped and reserved (vanilla bean is expensive, so if you're being frugal, substitute 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract)
1 tsp. lemon zest
6 c. fresh sour cherries, pitted (cherry pitter highly recommended!)
2 Tblsp. unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 Tblsp. milk
Turbinado sugar (for dusting--can use granulated sugar, if necessary)

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. Roll out remaining dough into a long rectangle. Using a ruler as a guide, use a knife or pastry wheel to cut 10-16 (depending on the size) strips of equal width for the lattice top. Place strips on a piece or parchment and refrigerate until cold, about 10 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Meanwhile, combine sugar, cornstarch, salt, cinnamon, vanilla bean seeds, and lemon zest in a small bowl. Add cherries and toss with the dry mixture. Remove crust from the fridge and pour in the cherry filling. Dot the top of the filling with butter.

4. To make the lattice, lay 5-8 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. Brush lattice with the 1 Tblsp. milk and dust with Turbinado sugar.
5. Bake until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbling, approximately 60-75 minutes. Once done, remove from oven and let cool on a wire rack. Serve slightly warm with a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream.



On Monday night, after going back and forth whether to have the show in the backyard under storm-threatening skies, we settled into the Dollhouse living room for two sets of traditional music--ragtime jazz and string band numbers from Baltimore's Bumper Jacksons, and ballads, old-time tunes and such sweet harmonies from Michigander's Red Tail Ring. Though Michael and I have been friends for about eight years now and I've seen him play in so many bands--ska and loud bluegrass and quiet singer-songwriter, I think he's found his place here in this extremely tight and talented and duo.



After the show, I warmed the pie, and we dished it up with vanilla bean ice cream for the bands and remaining friends. The flavor was tart and just-sweet and complex, and just perfect. So good, that after Michael devoured the last sliver of a slice the next morning, I caught him unabashedly running his fingers through the leftover juice. The pie and pals and ping-pong (a rousing around-the-world session the next day) was the perfect antidote to my summer Michigan longing. Now I think it's just been postponed until fall.

"Levon Helm's" Lemon Icebox Pie

I've seen The Last Waltz at least half a dozen times now. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down was a favorite sing-along selection in college. I'd always hoped to make it to A Midnight Ramble--my friends' farm where I spend a lot of time is right across the river--but the closest I got was a friend producing an album in the barn. I put The Band in heavy rotation as soon as I heard that Levon Helm was sick, and his death hit me hard, or as much as the passing of a personally-influential music legend who you've never met can.

Though I'd had This Wheel's On Fire on my shelf for a while, I didn't start to read it until after that sad April day. Prior to all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll (to put it simply, but accurately) in The Band's scintillating autobiography, there is this little story amid Levon's description of his upbringing in Turkey Scratch, Arkansas:

"Mom and Arlena would bake up a couple of big cakes: one coconut, one pecan. On special occasions the two moms would collaborate on lemon icebox pies, their own invention. They'd beat two cans of Pet milk until it was whipped to foam, adding sugar and lemon juice until it congealed. Then they'd freeze it in the icebox. I loved this beyond belief. It was so sweet your mouth would pucker. After I was old enough to work, they'd have to make three pies: one for each family and one for Lavon [Levon's birth name]. And I'd guard mine. Then we'd make the radio the main feature, maybe play cards, visit."

As soon as I read that, I wanted to make a similar lemon icebox pie--so sweet and tart your mouth would pucker-- in tribute to the lone American (and Southerner) of the legendary group. I wonder if that was indeed the actual recipe--nothing but sweetened condensed milk, sugar and lemon juice. Perhaps I'll try that minimalist variety at some point, but this time I opted to add a few other ingredients, and turned to Martha Hall Foose, via Francis Lam for guidance. Ms. Foose, as you'll remember, is the Mississippi chef who invented the genius sweet tea pie. With that serving as a fine recommendation, along with Francis' glowing review of her lemon icebox pie, I didn't think I could go wrong. I swapped 'nilla wafers for the graham cracker crust, upped the lemon content for a higher pucker-factor, and made a few other adjustments. Despite a few more ingredients than Mrs. Helm's, it's still a delightfully simple pie to make.



"Levon Helm's" Lemon Icebox Pie
Adapted from Martha Foose via Salon

Ingredients
1 1/2 c. 'nilla wafer crumbs
1/8 c. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon (I ended up not using this because we were out!)
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
2 14-oz cans sweetened condensed milk (Pet brand if you're trying to be authentic)
4 large egg yolks
2 packed tsp. lemon zest (add more for more pucker)
2/3 c. fresh lemon juice
2 c. heavy cream
6 Tblsp. confectioner's sugar

Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In the bowl of a food processor, combine 'nilla wafer crumbs, sugar, cinnamon, and butter and pulse until well mixed. Pat the buttery crumbs into a 9-inch pie pan, pressing mixture into the bottom and sides to form a crust. Place in oven and bake for 6-8 minutes until golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool.
2. In a large bowl, whisk milk, yolks, lemon zest & lemon juice until well combined. Pour lemon filling into cooled crust and bake for 10 minutes or until set. Remove from the oven and let cool. Once at room temperature, chill pie for about 30 minutes.

3. When pie is chilled through, whip cream and confectioner's sugar until stiff peaks form. Spoon the whipped cream on top of the pie and mound decoratively. Chill for an additional hour. Serve cold.

Put The Big Pink on the record player, The Last Waltz (& Coal Miner's Daughter) on your TV screen, and Levon's favorite pie in the fridge, and you've got yourself the perfect tribute to this departed rock hero. Hell, you've got yourself the perfect night! Though there was no Band a playin', on the night we drove this Dixie pie down (terrible I know, I KNOW!), there were people a singin' and a bonfire in the country, a taco moon, and a field a light with disco fireflies. I might have even heard some Spike Jones on the Box.

All Around the Mulberry Tree

It was a big week for me and my writerly pursuits. Both pieces I have been working on came out within two days of each other. The first one, for The Hairpin, was a quippy real-life rom-com about dating a Civil War reenactor. Aside from a hardtack reference and a somewhat era-appropriate supper description, it really has nothing to do with food. The second though, "The Mulberry's the Worst Berry There Ever Was" for Gilt Taste (with its wonder editor Francis Lam), is an ode to the little pesky berry that launched this whole pie making obsession and is essentially responsible for the existence of this here blog.

As I've talked a bit about before in Why I Like Pie, and as you'll read in the Gilt Taste piece, I started baking pies the summer after graduating college. I was discovering all these mulberry trees (and some black raspberry bushes) all over Ann Arbor, and used the free fruit to fill as many pies as I could make, often with other gal pals baking right along side me. When I moved to Vermont after that summer, my friend Margaret suggested we start a pie blog so we could still stay in touch via our baking endeavors. Et puis, voila.

I had such a nostalgia for mulberries, that it wasn't until I heard this recording, from the Coal River Project of the American Folklife Center (after scouring the Library of Congress archive for "mulberry" content) that I started to question their merits. Despite their drawbacks though, my feelings for the fruit remain, as do all the things that the mulberry set in motion. Here's a little musical ode to it that I came across in that mulberry search. It's a little torchy and a little cheesy, but somehow that feels right.

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.

Chocolate & Strawberry Pocky Pie

My dad used to make us fancy breakfasts on Sundays--waffles, pancakes, or french toast, generally. I remember one Sunday in particular when my brother and I came downstairs, sat down at the kitchen table and found that my dad had had the genius idea of putting cherry pie filling into the waffle batter. I was BAFFLED. "How did you even think to DO that?" I asked. My dad sarcastically replied, "Well, I was thinking, and thinking, an I kept thinking...and that's what I thunk!". I think I remember that moment so clearly, because it was then that I discovered the art of improvisation. Improvising in the kitchen (or "jazz baking"/"free jazz baking" as my friend Mandy calls it) is something that my dad really prides himself on--a little of this, a little of that, a new twist on an old classic--and I think I inherited some of that bug. It's harder in baking then cooking, but I feel like I'm just getting to the point as a baker where I am more comfortable with experimentation, and with that, failure.

The other day I was thinking and thinking, and kept thinking, and I thunk up the idea of a pie crust out of Pocky. The Japanese biscuit is a nostalgic treat for me, right up there with Koala Yummies. I think my aunt gave both to my brother and I when her pilot friend brought some back from a trip to Japan. Though "Men's Pocky" is clearly superior, lately I've been pretty into the strawberry variety. A few months ago I made strawberry Pocky ice cream, in an attempt to replicate some that I had from a Japanese food truck in Nashville last summer. It was goood. I was thinking that strawberry Pocky pie crust would be too.



I used a basic graham cracker crust recipe, substituting the grahams for the Pocky and subtracting a few tablespoons of sugar. I opted for a simple chocolate filling this time around, so that the Pocky flavor would stand out. I had hoped that the crust would be pink, and it was before I baked it, but like purple green beans that disappointingly turn green when cooked, the Pocky crumbs lost all of their strawberry hue in the oven.

Chocolate & Strawberry Pocky Pie

Ingredients
For Crust:
1 1/4 c. strawberry Pocky crumbs (about 6- 1.16oz boxes)
1 Tblsp. sugar
1/3 c. butter, melted 

For Chocolate:
7 oz. 60-70% dark chocolate (unsweetened), broken into pieces
3/4 c. sugar

3/4 c. heavy cream

Directions
For Crust:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Put strawberry Pocky in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until 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 Chocolate:

1. Put chocolate, sugar, and heavy cream into the top of a double boiler. Put water in the bottom of the boiler and place on medium heat until filling is melted, glossy, and thick.

2. Pour chocolate ganache over the baked Pocky crust and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. Serve at room temperature.

In the end, the crust was delicious, and the strawberry flavor was present but not unnaturally  overbearing. Though it might not have matched my dad's improvisational genius of cherry pie waffles, It certainly wasn't a failure, and I'm excited about other Pocky pie possibilities--strawberry Pocky crust with a dark chocolate coconut filling? Men's Pocky crust with a raspberry icebox filling? Strawberry Pocky icebox filling in a strawberry Pocky crust? Turns out, there is Pocky for kitty (bonus points if you get that allusion...)

I brought this pie over to my friend Cole's house for a not-so-celebration of his departure from DC to the west coast. It accompanied delicious potato salad, mac and cheese, and spicy drumsticks on the cookout buffet table, and fueled our late night dance jams at the Last Cherch Service.

Braceros' Cafeteria Pie

This photo, of women cooks/bakers preparing to serve pie to Mexican workers in Hood River County, Oregon, c. 1943, comes to us by way of the Oregon State University Archives. According to the Archive, almost the entire work force of international migrant workers at that time was composed of over 15,000 young Mexican nationals, who came to the U.S. via the Bracero Program, a WWII era labor initiative between the United States and Mexico. The Braceros, as they were called, were employed on farms and orchards where there were critical labor shortages due to the war. Many faced poor living conditions and suffered from labor disputes and lack of interpreters. When American men returned from the war after 1945, most of these workers lost their jobs and were deported to Mexico. Though Braceros essentially saved American agriculture during WWII, they are generally not recognized for their labor and contribution.

Just as I'm curious about the lives of the Braceros, in particular their songs, traditions, and other labor lore, I also wonder who the women in the above photo were--Wives and daughters of Bracero camp managers? Single mothers in need of work? What was there their own work culture, in juxtaposition to those of the Braceros, and what might have been the intersection between those two worlds of Mexican laborers and American women whose husbands or brothers were away at war? And also importantly, what kind of pie is that? Apple, peach, or pear with fruit from the orchard, perhaps?

You can see more photos of the series here (though none others contain pie) and read more about the Braceros via Oregon Public Broadcasting here. Also check out Woody Guthrie's song Deportee, which was written about the 1948 death of 28 Braceros who were being deported back to Mexico.

Lardass Returns in The Runcible Spoon Swimsuit Issue!

As I mentioned a few posts ago, The Runcible Spoon is a wonderful little food zine based in Washington, D.C. whose approach to food is fun and fanciful rather than serious and stuffy. It's completely handmade and features imaginative original writing and creative collage by local writers and illustrators.

I had the pleasure of contributing a piece ("Lardass Returns!") about pie--a potato-green chili pie with a cheddar bacon crumble and lard crust, to be exact--to their most recent issue--THE SWIMSUIT ISSUE! Here's a little more about it, from editor Malaka Gharib:

Our new summer SWIMSUIT issue features lusciously gratuitous food options and down-home, sticks-to-your-ribs recipes that are guaranteed to make that winter weight permanent and get us beach-ready in no time. The zine includes a story on the art of frying avocados from NPR producer, Bill Chappell; a photo essay on vintage kitchenware by the Washington Post's AJ Chavar; and a recipe for lard pie by DC-based, Tarts by Tarts' Emily Hilliard.

Want to make this perfectly heavy summer treat? Click on the image above or better yet, buy a copy (see below)!

Wanna get your greasy little hands on a copy? You can order them on Etsy here for the very low price of $3 each! It's on my recommended summer reading list for the beach, backyard, or bus.

And by the way, this issue has gotten some amazing press! The Huffington Post Food & DC sections have covered it, as well as The New York Times Magazine (last Sunday), Washington City Paper, Refinery29, ScoutMob and the Washington Post, too. Now go get you some fried avocados and lard pie!

Sweet Tea Pie & A Barn Dance

Well, it's certainly not the most beautiful thing I've ever made, sweet tea pie. When I was taking these photos, attempting to make it look better by propping the shot with a pitcher of iced tea and a lemon, Brent and our friend Joe were teasing me, saying that ugly looking food was really the next culinary wave, because why distract yourself with unnecessary aesthetic (the philosophy behind Opaque, I suppose)? Let the food speak for itself--why make it look good?, they joked. I tried my best...

Sweet tea pie, a recipe of Mississippi chef Martha Hall Foose's via Nancie McDermott, is a chess pie spin-off that's infused with the beverage that can clearly identify southerners from non (As an Indiana-native with a health-conscious mom, I had never ever had iced tea so sweet as I did when I came to North Carolina). The filling is accented by a bit of lemon, as you might take in your tea, and a lot of butter, as you might not take in your tea. It's one of those, that like the salty honey pie, looks better before baking, because once in the oven all of that sugar caramelizes, turning brown and appearing almost burnt, like a not-so-dainty creme brûlée. But in the same way as the classic French dessert, that crusty top just masks the smooth and oozing sweet filling inside. The tea flavor is noticeable, but I wish it were a little stronger (perhaps by using more tea bags?), and that it was a little less sweet. But make it according to your preference--Do you like your sweet tea so sweet it makes your teeth quiver (I feel like that could be a line in a country song)? If so, stick with the 2 cups.

Sweet Tea Pie

Adapted slightly from Nancie McDermott's Southern Pies

Ingredients

Nothing-in-the-House Pie Crust, halved

1 1/2-2 c. sugar, depending on how sweet you like your sweet tea

1 c. butter, softened

8 egg yolks

3/4 c. strong black tea, room temperature (I used 2 tea bags)

1 Tblsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 packed tsp. lemon zest

2 Tblsp. all-purpose flour

2 Tblsp. cornmeal

1/2 tsp. salt

Directions

1. Prepare half of Nothing-in-the-House pie crust (for 1 bottom crust) as per the instructions. Chill dough for at least one hour. Once chilled, roll out and fit into a greased and floured 9-inch pie pan. Flute edges and return to the fridge until ready to use. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Using a Kitchenaid or by hand, beat the sugar and butter on medium speed in a large bowl until light and fluffy. Add egg yolks one at a time, beating after each addition. Turn off the mixer and add tea, lemon juice & zest, and beat on medium speed until well incorporated. Add flour, cornmeal, and salt and beat on low until mixed evenly.

3. Remove pie crust from the fridge and pour filling into the crust. Place it on the bottom shelf of the oven and bake until edges puff and center is fairly firm, about 45-50 minutes. The top will be crystallized and deep brown similar to the top of a creme-brûlée, and filling will bubble and appear somewhat liquid, though should only wiggle slightly when nudged. Let pie cool on a cooling rack and serve warm or at room temperature.

The lack of beauty of the pie itself was made up for by the surroundings and evening in which we ate it. Yesterday evening, Brent and Joe and I piled into Brent's truck, packed to the gills with fiddles and guitars and banjos and beers and this here pie, and got the hell outta DC, headed towards a barn dance at Moutoux Orchard in Loudon County, Virginia. After driving through the suburban monstrosities of Northern Virginia, we eventually found ourselves among horse farms and vineyards and even a cricket match(!) and rolled up in the golden hour of the evening, with the rolling hills and peach trees aglow in a warm light.

After the potluck dinner and as the band was warming up, my friends and I wandered down to the barn, where we found a very new calf trying out her wobbly legs. She put on quite a show for the camera, jumping about the pen, rubbing her nose in the mud, and practicing her moo. Eventually a crowd gathered and everyone was so taken by the bovine model that Joe had quite a task pulling them away from her to get them to come dance.

 But once he did, the party took off, with a barn packed full of dancers, many who had never square danced before. Joe did an excellent job calling and keeping everyone grapevine twisting, mountaineer looping, and shooting the hole through the old tin can late into the night-- quite a task when a good part of the crowd were farmers with early morning wake-up calls.

 As I like to do at things like this, I saved the pie for the set break, when everyone was sweaty and tipsy and tired enough to be hungry all over again. The band didn't really stop playing though, so I slipped plates with slices under their chairs and dished up the rest for whoever wanted a piece. In my own state of sweaty and tipsy and tiredness, I didn't manage to snap a clear photo of the sliced pie, but I did want to show you the smooth yellow filling under that crusty layer, so let's just call it a "mood shot" and move on.

I needed that slice with its dose of caffeine (and butter, so much butter) to keep me going, because even when the dance ended past midnight, we stayed up a few hours more to sit around and pick a few tunes. When we finally closed down the barn and curled up to go to sleep in the truck, I suddenly realized the country song-ready pun, sweet tea pie or sweetie pie?

You can find more pictures of the dance (and more of that cute calf) here.

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!

The Runcible Spoon's Summer Issue Launch Party

Is it summer yet? The sundresses (and even some sunburn), blockbusters, and strawberries of this past weekend all point to YES. But the weather is still a little rainy and mild for the real summer onslaught, the pools aren't open yet, and I still gotta work on that summer tan. Another way I'll be preppin' is with the Runcible Spoon's Summer Issue & Launch Party!

The Runcible Spoon is a rad and quirkly DC food zine whose approach to food is fun and fanciful rather than serious and stuffy. It's completely handmade and the writing and recipes are accented by creative collage and comic-al illustrations.

This time around, they've put together a SUMMER SWIMSUIT ISSUE, full of fat and greasy recipes to get you pumped about donning that itsy bitsy teeny weenie yellow polka dot bikini. I'm extra excited about this edition because I was asked to be a contributing writer! I'll be sharin a lil' piece about lard pie crust that's topped with a very heavy, creamy, decadent filling. All that fat (lard is 100%) will really help you float on the ocean waves.

The launch party is happening Tuesday (that's tomorrow!), May 15th from 6:30-8:30pm at Blind Dog Cafe (944 Florida Ave. NW). There will be a bubble blowing contest (BYOBG), snacks, and new issues for your hot & sweaty little hands. Hope to see you there!