Tomato, Bacon & Jalapeño Pie at Turkey Scratch

I think I found heaven last month. It's in a Virginia holler outside of Blacksburg, at the home of Greg and Cindy Galbreath of Buckeye Banjos during their annual Turkey Scratch party. We arrived Friday night, and after driving up the long twisty driveway along a dirt road, we suddenly came upon a clearing, with multiple buildings lit with tiny glowing lights, folks milling about, and the sound of fiddle tunes in the air. As we approached these welcome sights and sounds, the buildings came into focus. There was a beautiful porch-wrapped home, made by Greg and Cindy; a banjo workshop with a loft, a pig-roasting shack, a chicken coop, and a little pavilion with an outdoor kitchen, where a jam was already in progress. After finding friends and the kegerator, we held a little square dance in the pavilion, and capped off the night with a 1am hot dog roast in the outdoor kitchen. Then it was off to bed in the banjo workshop, anxious to see what this little haven looked like in the daylight.

It was even dreamier than I imagined, as we were graced with the most perfect fall day. Friends and I went for a walk along the trails on the property, played around-the-world micro-pong (portable ping-pong game) on a sheet of plywood, and held down a ladies' porch jam of singing and tunes for most of the afternoon. Just before dinner time, I gathered a few friends, and we got into the kitchen to make our contribution to the potluck-- Homesick Texan's tomato, bacon & jalapeno pie. I'd brought all the necessary ingredients, but  we swapped out my grocery store tomatoes and bacon for heirloom and homemade varieties that Sebastiaan shared from his farm. While I prepared the crust, he and Ariel and Sarah worked on the filling, and we sang and told stories in the kitchen that was abuzz with other cooks, musicians, and cute babies. We assembled the pie in one of the many hanging skillets from Greg and Cindy's collection, then put it in the oven while we sampled the other dinner dishes and snuck oven peeks.

I'm not sure this pie ever really made it out of the kitchen entirely. The spicy-BLT like dish was so enticing, that we had to keep it on the down-low, sneaking our friends slices so they could all have a taste. Brent liked it so much, he said he wanted it to be his birthday cake for next year. It's good thing we laid down a strong pie base, for all the pickle back shots and square dancing and two-stepping that we'd get into later that night. Homesick Texan nails it yet again.

Tomato, Bacon & Jalapeño Pie
Adapted only slightly from Homesick Texan

Ingredients
For the filling:
1 1/2 lbs. heirloom tomatoes (a meaty variety is best), sliced
1 tsp. sea salt
3 c. (12 oz.) pepper jack cheese, shredded
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeño, seeded and sliced in rounds or diced
8 oz. bacon, cooked and diced

For the crust:
1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. cornmeal
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
8 Tblsp. unsalted butter, chilled
3/4 c. buttermilk

Directions
1. Place sliced tomatoes in a colander and place the colander in a mixing bowl. Sprinkle the tomatoes with salt and toss, then let sit at room temperature for about 30 minutes so the juices drain.

2. Meanwhile, make the crust. In a large bowl, mix together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt and pepper. using a pastry cutter or fork and knife, cut the chilled butter into the flour mixture until it is the consistency of cornmeal and peas. Stir in the buttermilk and mix well. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough into an 11-inch circle.

3. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and lightly grease a 9 or 10-inch cast iron skillet (you can use a normal pie pan if you don't have a skillet). Transfer the dough to the skillet and fit the crust, making sure it reaches the top of the pan all the way around.

4. Fill the pie by sprinkling and spreading half of the cheese along the crust. Layer in the tomato slices, garlic, jalapeño, and bacon, topping with the remaining cheese.

5. Place the skillet on a baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes until the crust and cheese are golden brown and filling is bubbling.

It is funny to think about this heavenly time and place when we here in DC and pretty much everywhere else along the East coast is getting slammed by Hurricane Sandy. I will say though, that while this pie was the perfect thing for an old-time party on the perfect fall day, it would also be just as good, maybe even better, as a storm party comfort food. Stay safe and dry and stocked in pie out there, folks.

Nothing-in-the-House at Keep DC Safe 2012

My friend Kate works for DC Safe, a wonderful non-profit organization that provides support for victims of domestic violence in Washington, D.C. A few months ago she was hard at work planning their annual benefit party and asked if Nothing-in-the-House Baking Co. would be interested in donating baked goods for the event. She promised a lovely party of food, drink, and live music on a beautiful roof deck on U St. and of course support of an important civil rights organization in our community. Count me in.

 I opted for simple, autumnal offerings--miniature rustic apple tarts (following this recipe) and pumpkin doughnuts, some with a buttermilk glaze and some with cinnamon and sugar. After baking all day, Kate, Mary, and I made our way to the Room & Board for a lovely October evening on the roof deck. We played cornhole and drank apple cider sangria, took in views of the city, and celebrated the hard work of DC Safe, its staff and volunteers. And by the end, there was literally, nothing in the house.

Thanks very much to Kate and DC Safe for having me. You can find more pictures of the event here.

Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze

It is my little pie baker's secret that I am not that into apple pie. I find it a bit "meh"--somewhat bland, generally unexciting and when it's bad it can be REALLY BAD and when it's good, it's just...good. Despite my usual traditionalist leanings, I just don't understand the fascination. Of course I get the whole nostalgia around it, and there is something really special and comforting about my mom's apple pie--always done with a brown sugar crumble top. But other than that, I can take it or leave it (or make an apple galette instead).

But apple pie is often the test of a pie bakers skill, so instead of shunning it, I instead try to find ways to make the classic dish a little more personally appealing. Last year I made it savory with grueyere, caramelized onions and sage; recently I added green chiles to my apple fried pies (recipe coming soon); and previously I'd tried some caramel apple pie recipes, with mediocre success, as the caramel always seemed to dissolve or melt in the oven. So I decided to try adding the caramel after--once the pie had been baked-- as a salty-sweet (and eye-catching) glaze. As usual, I opted for Northern Spies, my go-to baking apple (spies are for pies), which I picked up at the Mt. Pleasant Farmer's Market.

Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze
Caramel recipe adapted from Judicial Peach

Ingredients
For pie:
Nothing-in-the-House pie crust
8 medium-sized apples, peeled, cored & cut into 1/2-3/4 inch slices (sometimes I leave the skins on, as it doesn't bother me, and they are the the healthiest part of the apple. It also saves time.)
1/4 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. maple syrup
1 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. allspice
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
3 Tbslp. cornstarch or all-purpose flour
1 Tblsp. fresh lemon juice
Turbinado sugar, for dusting

 For salted caramel glaze:
1/2 c. sugar
1/8 c. water
1/8 c. light corn syrup
1/2 c. heavy cream
2 Tblsp. unsalted butter
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract

Directions

For pie:

1. Prepare the Nothing-in-the-House pie crust as per the directions. Chill dough at least 1 hour. Once chilled, roll out 1/2 of pie crust and fit into a 9-inch greased and floured pie pan. You can choose to roll out the top-crust now and refrigerate it flat, or roll it out once you've prepared the filling. Either way, you should put both the remaining crust and the pie pan in the fridge while you prepare the filling.

2. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Place apple wedges in a large bowl and set aside. In a medium bowl, whisk together brown sugar, lemon zest, spices and cornstarch or flour and add to the apples. Mix well, then add maple syrup and lemon juice and stir to combine.

3. Pour the apple filling into the bottom pie crust and spread evenly. Add the top crust, crimping and fluting the edges decoratively and cutting vents in the top so steam can escape. Brush on an egg wash (using the remaining 1/2 egg from the crust) and sprinkle top with Turbinado sugar.

4. Place pie in the oven and bake at 425 for 20 minutes. Reduce heat to 375 degrees F and continue to bake for about 40 minutes more or until filling is bubbling and crust is golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool.

For caramel glaze:

1. While pie is in the oven, prepare the caramel glaze. In a small pot, bring cream, butter, and sea salt to a simmer over low heat, making sure to not let it boil. Once it begins to simmer, remove from heat and set aside.

2. In a medium saucepan, mix water, corn syrup and sugar. Place over medium heat and stir until sugar has dissolved. Then without stirring, bring the mixture to a boil until it is golden brown in color. Make sure to keep an eye on it as this transition can happen quickly.

3. When the mixture is done, remove from heat and carefully add the cream mixture (it will bubble up so pour it slowly). Stir in the vanilla.

4. Return the saucepan to the stove and cook over medium heat until it reaches a temperature of 248 degrees (you'll need a candy thermometer for this), approximately 10 minutes. Once it reaches 248, remove from heat and let cool just slightly.

5. When pie is out of the oven, use a spoon to drizzle caramel glaze over the top crust. Let cool until the caramel begins to harden and serve warm, preferably with vanilla ice cream.

Sure enough, the salted caramel really upped the ante, and I rather enjoyed this pie. Part of it may have been because I ate it at midnight in the midst of a honky-tonk jam & dance at one hell of a party at the "slice of heaven" home of Buckeye Banjos, after having enjoyed a few picklebacks, but whatever the reason, this really hit the spot. I made it again for my Pie CSA members, and it seemed to do the trick for them as well.

"I LIKE PIES!" A historical comic by Ellen Lindner

A few months ago my housemate Bobbie handed me a copy of Bitch Magazine, open to a cartoon. "Check this out--it's about pies," she said. It clearly was, given the big block letters reading "I LIKE PIES" across the bottom of the comic, but it also depicted the meeting of two prominent women of the 20th century--the cartoonist Nell Brinkley, and Evelyn Thaw, née Nesbit, the wife of tycoon Harry Thaw, who was on trial for the death of architect Stanford White (who by the way, designed the addition to Rokeby). The two women met in 1908 at the New York City Jail--Nell, who drew for the Hearst newspapers, was charged with doing a story about Evelyn, who had been told by her lawyers to win the court's sympathy. When Nell asked her to talk about things she liked, rather than her misfortune, Evelyn responded, "I love oysters Rockefeller, teal on toast, baked Alaska, but most of all "I like pies!" That quote appeared as the headline on the next day's paper, and Nell's coverage of the Thaw trial made her famous. Evelyn, however, was sadly left destitute when her husband was declared insane.

That cartoon on the back cover of Bitch, was drawn by the talented cartoonist Ellen Lindner. I tracked her down via the magic of the interwebs, and asked if I might feature it on the pie blog. In giving her permission, she shared a few other tidbits about her research and drawing process. Ellen first came upon the work of Nell Brinkley when she was working on a piece for Paul Gravett's 1001 Comics to Read Before You Die. In regards to Nell, Ellen says, "She's a massive heroine of mine--someone who took on the big boys of the cartooning world back when it was a bit odd for women to be working, let alone splashing their names all over the country's newspapers." 

Ellen conducted the research for this story at the New York Public Library's Picture Collection in Mid-Manhattan, and has some additional sketches for the piece on her blog. I recommend you take a look at more of Ellen's work on her website, and check out her periodical The Strumpet (and their Kickstarter for pre-orders...only 4 more days to go!), "a words and pictures periodical uniting lady comix stars of the future...in one cartoony package." COOL! I'm glad that I got united with this present-day lady comix star though a lady comix star of the past...and pie.

Quince Biscuit Pie

It was a classic case of being nostalgic for something I never really knew, or only partially knew, the rest filled in by imagination. Outside the breakfast nook window of my childhood home was a "secret garden," nestled in the corner of our backyard between our picket fence and a wisteria wrapped trellis. Beside the wisteria, which never actually bloomed its purple flower but was instead just woody and knotted and slightly sinister, was a little quince tree. It produced hard, fuzzy green fruit that my brother and I would throw at each other, but never ate.

Aside from that, quince just seemed to me to be the antiquated fruit of another era--something a Jane Austen character might bring along with her on a picnic in the English countryside. Even the name sounded British and romantic and esoteric. Quince (I'm also convinced that the plural of quince should be quince and not "quinces"--right?)

It turns out, though, that quince is too hard and astringent to be eaten raw--any lady who might have been carrying one in her bosom (like a lady apple) would have gagged into her Earl Grey had she bit into one. It's only upon cooking that quince is rendered edible. Quince does have its fantastical qualities, though. Previously I bemoaned the unusually-colored fruits and vegetables that lose their vivd hue once cooked. Just the opposite with quince. Once poached or baked or roasted, quince turns from its spring green to a ruddy pink. The pear and apple cousin also contains a lot of natural pectin, making it ideal for jams and pies.

I put mine in a quince biscuit pie from Lottie + Doof via Martha Stewart. With its biscuit topping, this "pie" is technically a cobbler, but no matter what you call it, it's a wonderful delight-the smooth vanilla & maple-poached quince juxtaposed with an almost-savory cornmeal biscuit crust and almonds that become roasted and sweet in the oven.

I made the full pie for a Pie CSA member and used the leftovers to make little personal cobblers in small rammekins. We ate them for Sunday brunch and mixed the leftover poaching liquid with champagne for special sweet, pink mimosa. I also considered adding a bit more sugar to the liquid and boiling it down for a quince jelly. Whatever you do, you should use the remaining poaching liquid for something (Lottie + Doof suggests a delicious sounding rye cocktail)--it's superb.

Quince Biscuit Pie
Adapted very slightly from Lottie + Doof

Ingredients
For the filling:
5 c. water
1 c. maple syrup (grade B preferable)
3/4 c. sugar
4-5 quinces, peeled, cored & cut into quarters
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped and pod reserved
2 tsp. cornstarch

For the biscuit topping:
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 c. fine yellow cornmeal
1/3 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
12 oz. (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 c. heavy cream
3 Tblsp. slivered almonds

Directions
1. For the filling: Place water, maple syrup, sugar, quinces, vanilla seeds & pod in a large stock pot and simmer over medium heat. Cover the pot with parchment paper and cook until the quinces are soft and rosy pink, 1 1/2-2 hrs (Don't fret if your quinces don't turn pink...mine only turned a very subtle pink while boiling, then turned more vibrant once baked. Just make sure they are soft). Discard the vanilla pod and preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

2. For the topping: In a medium bowl, sift together flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut in the butter with a pastry cutter or knife and fork until mixture resembles cornmeal 'n' peas. Make a well in the center and pour in the heavy cream. Stir with a wooden spoon until combined and the dough comes together. Wrap in plastic wrap and put in the fridge until you're ready to use it.

3. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the quinces to a medium bowl. Reserve 1 c. of the poaching liquid for the pie (and reserve the rest for later because it is SO GOOD). Add the 1 c. of poaching liquid and the cornstarch to the quinces and stir to combine. Pour the mixture into a 9-inch pie plate.

4. Arrange heaping spoonfulls of the biscuit topping around the outer edge of the pie, leaving a little whole in the middle for steam to escape (and for a little peak at the pink filling!). Sprinkle the almonds on top and bake until the liquid is bubbling and the biscuit topping is golden, approximately 50 minutes.  Let cool completely and serve with maple whipped cream.

Pear Tarte Tatin (Take Two)

This Ruth Reichl pear tarte tatin, from the Gourmet cookbook, has become a staple recipe in my kitchen. The first time I made it was about three years ago, for a dinner party out at my then-new friends Lora and Joe's house in the Carolina woods. Out on the porch that night in the chilly fall air, I met a group of young old-time musicians, Anna, Brett, John & Sabra, then the Blind Tiger String Band, who were all so fun and cool and talented. I hoped that I would become good friends with everyone at the table.

Three years later, that's happened, and I see Brett at shows when he passes through town and at our friends' weddings and showers and parties, Anna and I dance at square dances and play ping-pong at old-time festivals, and Sabra and I make plans and chat regularly and sing songs around the campfire. Lora and Joe are now old friends and that upside-down pear tart is an old standby. I've since made it for Pi(e) Day and Christmas, Thanksgiving potlucks, and other dinner parties with friends.

I'm sharing the recipe again, as these photos by Stephanie Breijo, of the version I made for Brightest Young Things' Urban Picnic Guide, are the best ones I've seen yet. We're also decidedly in pear season, and maybe this fall you can also share this simple tart with friends old and soon-to-be.

 
Pear Tarte Tatin
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

Ingredients
4 large firm yet ripe Bosc pears
1/2 stick unsalted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Nothing-in-the-House Pie Crust, halved and using all-purpose flour

Directions
1. Peel, halve, and core pears (with a melon-baller or grapefruit spoon). Heat butter in a 9- to 10-inch cast-iron skillet over moderate heat until foam subsides, then stir in sugar (sugar will not be dissolved). Arrange pears, cut sides up, in skillet with wide parts facing out. Sprinkle pears with cinnamon and cook without stirring, until sugar turns a deep golden caramel. (about 15- 25 minutes, depending on pears, skillets, and stove.) Cool pears completely in skillet.

2. Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 425°F.

3. Roll out dough on a lightly floured surface with a floured rolling pin into a 12-inch round and trim to a 9 1/2- to 10 1/2-inch round. Arrange pastry over the caramelized pears, tucking the edge around the pears inside the rim of skillet. Bake tart until pastry is golden brown, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool 5 minutes.

4. Invert a rimmed serving plate (slightly larger than skillet) over skillet and, using pot holders to hold skillet and plate tightly together, invert tart onto plate. Serve tart warm with vanilla whipped cream.

Pawpaw Pie

One Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, I found myself tromping through the woods along the Patuxent River, outside Bowie, Maryland (pronounced BOO-ey, I learned) with a group of friends, heads all turned up towards the sky. We were hunting pawpaw, and they were proving themselves a little scarce. Though we came across many trees with their large banana-like leaves, few seemed to be bearing fruit, and it suspiciously seemed that someone else had been tipped off to our usually plentiful foraging spot.

Before this excursion I don't think I'd ever had a pawpaw, even though I grew up in "Michiana" where there is even a whole town named after the fruit. When my friend Joseph found a pawpaw patch at a fiddlers' convention last month, he too was surprised I'd never eaten one, as he called them, "the Indiana banana." I've heard the wild fruit described in different ways--some say it is is the non-tropical papaya, (though Wikipedia suggests that they are only alike in name, not species, and the paw paw is, in fact, tropical), some say it tastes like a mango, banana, or avocado. All of these made sense--I found the texture similar to the latter, and the flavor like a more floral mango. The pawpaw is the kind of wild fruit, like mulberries or persimmons, that you can't really find at a grocery store--you just have to go find for yourself (though NPR has this wonderful story on a plant scientist who is trying to change that).

 In our hunt along the Patuxent, Adam and Sarah ended up going deeper into the forest and found a good cache, while Caitlin, Mike and I seemed to have the most success following the river and shaking down the tree branches, then collecting the fallen fruit from the river bed. Luckily though, Sarah and Adam were willing to share their spoils, so we all went home with at least enough for some sort of pie, pudding, or custard. I, of course, made a pawpaw meringue pie, adapting a recipe from Kentucky State University. Pawpaw's smooth texture is perfect of a custard or curd, though the floral flavor took some getting used to, it's a special seasonal treat for adventurous eaters.



Paw Paw Pie
Filling Adapted from a Kentucky State University recipe

Ingredients
For crust:
Nothing in the House pie crust, halved, or for cookie crust:
1 1/4 cup gingersnap crumbs
3 Tablespoons sugar
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
 
For filling:
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
3 egg yolks, beaten (reserve whites for meringue)
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup paw paw pulp, puréed

For meringue:
3 egg whites (reserved from filling)
3 Tablespoon sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of cream of tartar

Directions
For cookie 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 and meringue:
1. Combine 3/4 sugar and cornstarch in a medium bowl. Add the beaten egg yolks, milk, and cream. Whisk until well combined and the add the puréed paw paw pulp. Pour the mixture into a medium saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly. Once thickened (about 10 minutes), remove from heat and let cool. When at room temperature, place plastic wrap over the surface of the paw paw curd and refrigerate while you make the meringue.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Beat egg whites with 3 Tblsp. sugar, salt, and cream of tartar until stiff peaks form. Pour the curd into the crust and spoon the meringue on top, curling it decoratively with the back of a spoon. Place in the oven for about 10 minutes until meringue has browned. serve chilled or at room temperature.

Apple Pickin' Recipes in Luri & Wilma

Ah....October at last. In my opinion, it's the best month of the year-- for woods walks in sweaters 'n' boots, Brit folk on the stereo, and a huge pot of apple butter cooking down on the stove (oh, also Halloween, duh!). But it takes a lot of apples to make all those jars of preserves, so you'd better make your way to your nearest orchard and pick yourself a bushel or two.

Growing up, we took a yearly visit to Eberly's Orchard, a place I've often mentioned and documented here. Since then, I've always tried to keep that annual tradition alive, finding a nearby apple orchard wherever I may be. Sometimes it's required convincing friends to spend a whole day in the car, and no orchard quite measures up to the one of my childhood, but I still consider it a necessary autumn ritual.

For Luri and Wilma's Fall Issue, I wrote a little piece about that tradition, and what to do with your apple pickin' haul i.e. make apple tarts, apple cider doughnuts, and apple butter! Above and below are pages from that story, and you can find my rustic apple tart recipe here, but for the full scoop, check out the issue online. Then gather up some friends, lace up your boots, and head out for the apple trees!

Nothing-in-the-House Pie Crust Recipe--Illustrated!

For a little over a week now this URL to "Another Kitchen Blog" kept coming up as a referring site in my blog stats. But I couldn't figure out why! (The English translation had not yet been added). Of course I loved the adorable pie crust recipe illustration, but my eyes got lost amidst the Italian words, and it took me a few visits until I finally spotted a few familiar English ones--"nothing in the house". I sent the link to my friend Marina for translation. She replied with the answer:

"I have started to illustrate the recipes I try. Here is one from Nothing in the House, (which, if you're looking for tarts and pies, is an excellent find.)" Then she illustrates your simple crust recipe.

Amazing! The Nothing-in-the-House pie crust recipe, now in Italian--and illustrated! I just love the style--the handwritten European script, the little salt shaker, the bottle of apple cider vinegar, the finished heaping pie--I wish I could hang a print of it in my kitchen! I'm so flattered that Anna chose to illustrate my recipe and I can't wait to see more as she posts them. In the meantime check out this one for... forgive my Italian... leek croquettes?!

Whole Wheat Plum Crumble Tart

The best meals are the communal ones. When friends and family crowd the kitchen, taking turns stirring the pot, sampling the dishes and adding just a touch of pepper or a pinch of salt, singing along to the stereo together (or to a live serenade?) while you roll crusts and whip cream. Though the deliciousness of those crab cakes we made on our "cousins" Carolina beach trip, or that homemade pizza baked in a friends' backyard wood-fired oven, or my dad's Christmas Eve potato-leek soup, help trigger the memory, it's the collective energy-- the communal process, accomplishment and then enjoyment of the whole thing that make for the most memorable eating experiences. They're something I seek out, and for me are an important part of socializing, wooing, and quality family time.

Though there have been so so many special ones, some that come to mind are my friend Joe's birthday party in West Virginia last fall, a cookout 'n' honky-tonk show at the Dollhouse this spring, all of our Portland, Maine Thanksgivings, and almost every NELP dinner. Another one to add to the list, was a very magical communal dinner for which I made this whole what plum crumble tart (and also the tomato-ricotta galette! Which is NOT a pizza).



This communal dinner was hosted by the incredibly wonderful, totally hilarious, creative genius and all-around wonder gal Morgan Hungerford West! Among many other projects that I try but can't totally keep up with, Morgan writes Panda Head blog, and publishes the corresponding magazine. For the upcoming fall issue, she and her Panda Head Mag partners put together a communal dinner for some of the magazine friends and contributors. I can't say TOO much because you'll want to see the full photographic and written treatment in the mag, but I will say that it took place at a rustic local restaurant that we've been wanting to go to (during off-hours) with a long farm table, that there were many many large jars of various types of homemade pickles, homebrew that didn't even taste like homebrew (more like a delicious IPA!), and an incredible spread of GOOD FOOD. And I mean it that way--perfectly prepared homemade food brought by all of the guests and hosts, nothing too fancy or showy, just really really well-done delicious dishes.

There were also lovely place settings--including a communal reading and little buttonhole sewn napkins, good records (the DJing was also communal), and really cool people who were excellent conversationalists! (I think we were sitting amongst a group of  butchers, bakers, and candlestick maker--LITERALLY?). So maybe I said too much. But hopefully that leaves you wanting more, and you can find it in Panda Head Magazine's Issue 7. In the meantime, here's something I can tell you more about--that plum tart.

Whole Wheat Plum Crumble Tart
Adapted from The Kitchn, tart crust from Dorie Greenspan

Makes a 9-inch tart, though an 11-inch tart is pictured

Ingredients
For the crust:
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. confectioner's sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
9 Tblsp. unsalted butter, cold & cubed
1 egg yolk

For the crumble:
3/4 c. oats
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. whole wheat flour
1/4 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
3/4 tsp. salt
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

For the filling:
1 lb. plums, pitted and sliced into halves or quarters, depending on size
1 Tblsp. sugar
1 tsp. lemon zest

Directions
For the crust:
1. Combine flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the cubed butter and pulse to incorporate until the mixture resembles cornmeal and peas. Add the egg yolk and pulse until the dough begins to form together.

2. Roll out the dough and pat it into your greased and floured tart pan. Freeze the tart shell for about 30 minutes while you assemble the rest of the tart. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

3. Butter the shiny side of a piece of aluminum foil and fit it tightly over the tart shell. Partially bake it (no need for pie weights) until golden in color, approximately 20-25 minutes. Remove the foil, gently pushing down any part of the crust that has puffed, and bake for 3-5 minutes more. Let cool to room temperature while you prepare the tart crumble & filling.

For the crumble & filing:
1. In a large bowl, combine the oats, flours, sugars, cinnamon & salt. Stir in the melted butter and form small clumps with your hands.

2. Toss together the plums, 1 Tblsp. sugar and 1 tsp. lemon zest and arrange over the bottom of the crust. Scatter the crumble on top of the plums, leaving some of the plums visible (you want to see that deep purple color!)

3. Bake about 40-50 minutes or until the topping is golden brown and the filling begins to bubble. Let cool and serve warm or at room temperature with vanilla ice cream.

Above you can see the plum tart in its natural habitat a.k.a. the Panda Head communal dinner dessert table, though I snapped this pic before an incredible wild blueberry pie appeared out of nowhere! And just so the tart isn't totally overshadowed by its surroundings, you should know that it is a really wonderful dessert for the end of plum season--the whole wheat crumble adds a nice texture and heartiness without being overly heavy (or hippie) and provides a sweet balance to the tart plums. This will definitely be a standby of the season for me, hopefully at many communal dinners to come.

Nothing-in-the-House Fall Pie CSA!

Well, I'll be. In all the busy-ness here at the end of summer, starting Nothing-in-the-House Baking Co., selling at the DC Meet Market and working on various other projects, I somehow neglected to mention here in this space that the Nothing-in-the-House Fall Pie CSA (CSA standing for "community supported agriculture," though this is really "community supported pie") has launched! We had our first pick-up on Labor Day weekend and are gearing up for the second round this Sunday!

The way it works is that members sign-up for a three month fall "share" or half share, and then receive one or two fresh, local, seasonal, handmade pie(s) a month! They can pick-up or have them delivered for an extra cost. So far it has been WONDERFUL. I've really liked dreaming up pies based on what's fresh at the market, and I also love knowing who I'm baking for and having that personal connection--no matter what I end up pursuing in the baking business, I think I will always retain that homebaker's motivation. It's also been really heartening to have friends support this project in words or promotion or CSA membership--in the true sense of a "CSA" it's turned out to be a genuine community supported venture.

If you'd like to be a part of that community or perhaps more importantly, bring home a fresh pie with you each month, don't worry--there's still time to join! You can get in on the full season if you sign up by this Friday, September 21st and after that, pro-rated memberships will be available for October and November. You can find all the information here or shoot me an email at nothinginthehousepie at gmail dot com.

Berry Tartlets

Photo by Stephanie Breijo for BYT

As the weather turns to mild and the evening falls a little bit earlier, my mind wanders to the joys of fall...all sweaters and boots, Brit folk and bonfires, apple butter and pumpkin pie. But for that Indian Summer that's bound to come before the true cold sets in, here's one last reminder of those dog days we've just left behind. Here in the Mid-Atlantic, berries are pretty much gone from the farmers' markets, but if you're lucky, you might be able to find a few stragglers of the fall crop at nearby pick-your-own farms. If not, though, stash this away in your recipe box until next year.

Though I've made several variations of these berry tarts and tartlets this summer, for markets and birthdays and going-aways, these particular treats were baked for that BYT Urban Picnic photo shoot back in August. This version, which is adapted from a Williams-Sonoma recipe and uses Dorie Greenspan's tart crust, is probably the most simple of the pastry cream (crème?)-'n'-berry pairings, calling for relatively inexpensive, staple ingredients. You can use any combination of seasonal berry and even throw in some other fruits if you like--kiwi, for instance, would be quite nice.

Berry Tartlets
Filling adapted from Williams-Sonoma, Crust adapted from Dorie Greenspan

Makes 6, 4-inch tartlets

Ingredients
For the crust:
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. confectioner's sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
9 Tblsp. unsalted butter, cold & cubed
1 egg yolk

For the filling:
3 Tblsp. granulated sugar
1 Tblsp. flour
1 Tblsp. cornstarch
1 tsp. lemon zest
2 egg yolks
2/3 c. milk
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
4 c. raspberries & blackberries (you can really use any type of seasonal berry!)
confectioner's sugar (optional)

Directions
For the crust:
1. Combine flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the cubed butter and pulse to incorporate until the mixture resembles cornmeal and peas. Add the egg yolk and pulse until the dough begins to form together.

2. Roll out the dough and pat it into your greased and floured tart pans. Freeze the tart shells for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

3. Bake the tart shells until they are golden in color, approximately 20-25 minutes. Let cool to room temperature while you prepare the tart filling.

For the filling:
1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sugar, flour, cornstarch, lemon zest, and egg yolks until incorporated. The mixture will be thick and pale yellow in color.

2. In a saucepan, combine the milk and vanilla and simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally. While continuing to stir, pour half of the milk into the sugar mixture until combined. Then pour this mixture back into the saucepan with the remaining milk and place over medium-low heat. Whisking constantly, cook the mixture until it becomes thick and begins to bubble, 1-2 minutes. Pour the pastry cream into a bowl and cover the surface with plastic wrap or parchment paper. Let cool to room temperature, then chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour.

3. Divide the pastry cream evenly into the 6 tartlet shells. Arrange the berries on top and dust with confectioner's sugar, if desired. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

This shot had us driving out to one of DC's most beautiful spots--the Tidal Basin--frequented by tourists and neglected by locals. As we set up our picnic across the water from the Jefferson Memorial, passersby seemed confused by our focused attention on our food spread and disregard for the monuments. With fall setting in, the Tidal Basin would still be a lovely spot for a picnic--berry tarts or not--and you won't have to deal with the crowds of summer, though you may encounter a few  Canadian geese, looking for a snack on their journey South.

Pie Sign in Portland

A retro pie sign in Portland, Oregon, spotted by my friend Angela on her way to work!

Savory Heirloom Tomato-Ricotta Galette

Homegrown tomatoes, homegrown tomatoes, what'd life be without homegrown tomatoes? Only two things that money can't buy--that's true love and homegrown tomatoes. Purty true. Though I unfortunately didn't grow any of my own this summer, I'm lucky to have friends who did and are willing to share. Just this past weekend at Rockbridge old-time festival, everyone seemed to have brought the last of their summer tomato bounty to share with other friends and fiddlers. Late Friday night I wandered over to the Jubal's Kin camp and was promptly handed a "hobo bruchetta"-- homegrown tomatoes and fresh mozarella wrapped in a tortilla, which essentially served as a mere vehicle for the goods inside. Then on Saturday morning, as the skillet was heating up for breakfast, my friend (and a fantastic chef) Sebastiaan sliced up some meaty red 'maters he'd grown, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, and basil, drizzled them with oil and put them out on the picnic table. They were gone in seconds. Throughout the weekend we had them in eggs and stews, sammiches and scrambles. A last hurrah of summer, for as Guy says, "winter without 'em's a culinary bummer."

I've made this heirloom tomato-ricotta galette a few times this tomato season. The first was for a delicious dinner with Brent, which also included bacon-wrapped scallops with spicy mayo, a beet and greens salad, and a bottle of wine. This time, I made it for an even more delicious communal dinner, at a magical candlelit undisclosed location with undisclosed people for undisclosed reasons. I promise to tell you more soon.

But for now, what you need to know is that, though any tomato will do, this galette is the best when made with those beautifully colored heirloom tomatoes (again with the tri-colored galette!), whether homegrown by you or someone else. I used Green Zebra, Early Girl, and Yellow Valencia tomatoes from my local co-op. The tart capitalizes on the winning combination of the classic Harriet the Spy-approved tomato sandwich, but upgrades the cheese and gives it a pastry crust, which pretty much hits it out of summer's ballpark.



Savory Heirloom Tomato-Ricotta Galette
Adapted from Martha Stewart

Ingredients
Nothing-in-the-House Pie Crust, halved and leaving out the sugar
1 c. whole-milk ricotta
1/2 c. grated Parmesan
2 large eggs
2 Tblsp. chopped fresh basil
1 1/2 c. sliced heirloom tomatoes, variegated colors preferable!
2 Tblsp. olive oil
Salt & pepper to taste

Directions
1. Prepare half of the Nothing-in-the-House pie crust as per the directions but leaving out the sugar. Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out into a 10-11 inch circle on a sheet of parchment paper. Put the rolled crust and parchment on a cookie sheet and return it to the fridge while you prepare the filling.

2. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. In a medium bowl, whisk together the cheeses, eggs, and chopped basil. Remove crust from the fridge and brush with olive oil.

3. Evenly spread the filling over the crust, leaving a 1-inch edge. Place the sliced tomatoes on top of the filling and fold the crust over the tomatoes. Brush the edge crust with olive oil and sprinkle the entire galette with salt and pepper.

4. Bake 35-45 minutes or until tomatoes are just dry. Let cool and serve warm or at room temperature.

One detail of the communal dinner I can share, is that immediately after dinner was served, before I had even sat down from the buffet table, someone called out to the crowd, "WHO MADE THIS PIZZA?!" Repeating themselves a few times after no one answered. "It's not a pizza," I mumbled under my breath, after realizing that they were talking about the galette. He kept repeating it, so I mustered up the courage to repeat myself louder... "It's not a pizza!" I exclaimed, in half-jest, knowing full well the thing is essentially 'za's kin. "Well whatever it is," he said,  "it's delicious!"

Tri-color Potato, Caramelized Onion, Goat Cheese & Rosemary Galette

Unusually colored vegetables can be a bit of a disappointment. When I worked on a farm in Vermont, I brought home a bushel full of those purple and Dragon's Tongue "green" beans and planned what I thought would be a variegated bean salad, only to find that they turn to regular ol' green beans once cooked.  Purple "tie-dye" carrots similarly lose their color once heat is applied. Not so, though, with purple/blue potatoes. Their hue persists, even intensifies, when sautéed or baked. We had a lot of them growing up--my Indiana potato farmer uncle would bring them, usually roasted, to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, adding a colorful novelty to an otherwise beige meal.

A few weeks ago I had coffee with Stephanie Breijo, the Associate Editor and talented photographer (she took all of these beauteous photos) of Brightest Young Things and she asked if I was interested in providing baked goods for and collaborating on a DC Urban Picnic Guide. With eating en plein air being one of my favorite ways to pass the time, I agreed.

In planning the menu, I needed portable, picnic-conducive items that would be both delicious and photogenic. I also definitely wanted to include a substantial savory tart, for a real picnic ain't just sweets. Re-enter then the purple potato, with its royal purple tint, reminding me of one of my favorite quotes in The Wicker Man, "Some things in their natural state have the most VIVID colors." Rosemary and caramelized onions are natural 'tater companions and my cheesemonger housemate Mary recommended the addition of goat cheese, for complementary flavor and color. Then I threw in a few other potato varieties for a tri-color potato, caramelized onion, goat cheese and rosemary savory galette.

Tri-color Potato, Caramelized Onion, Goat Cheese & Rosemary Galette
With guidance from Seasons and Suppers

Ingredients
Nothing-in-the-House Pie Crust, halved and leaving out the sugar
1 medium onion, sliced
6-8 small purple, red, and yellow potatoes
2 oz. goat cheese
1 tsp. fresh rosemary, diced
2 Tblsp. olive oil
Salt & pepper to taste

Directions
1. Prepare half of the Nothing-in-the-House pie crust as per the directions but leaving out the sugar. Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out into a 10-11 inch circle on a sheet of parchment paper. Put the rolled crust back in the fridge while you prepare the filling.

2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Add 1 Tblsp. olive oil and sliced onions to a cast iron skillet and place over medium heat. Stir to coat onions with olive oil. Cook the onions, stirring occasionally, until translucent. Sprinkle onions with salt and pepper and reduce heat to medium-low. Cook 25-30 more minutes until onions are caramelized.

3. While the onions are cooking, thinly slice the potatoes in rounds. Place the rounds on paper towels to let them dry slightly.

4. Remove rolled crust from the fridge and brush the bottom with 1/2 Tblsp. olive oil. Place the potato slices in concentric circles over the crust, leaving a 1-inch edge and scatter the caramelized onion slices on top. Sprinkle the goat cheese and rosemary evenly over the potatoes and onions. Fold the edge of the crust over the top of the filling and seal. Drizzle remaining 1/2 Tblsp. of olive oil over the entire tart and sprinkle a dash of salt and pepper over top.

5. Bake tart for 35-40 minutes or until crust is golden brown and potatoes are cooked through and almost crispy. Enjoy on a woodland picnic or 'round your kitchen table.

The day of the photoshoot had us trekking to DC's most beautiful and romantique spots--Malcolm X Park, where I assembled for protests in college and have since visited for Sunday Times reading and well, picnics; the Tidal Basin, just across the Potomac from the Jefferson Monument; and the Smithsonian Sculpture Garden. This galette was shot in Rock Creek Park, one of my favorite District locations (and closest to my home) with woods, fields, and trails perfect for running & biking, long walks, experimental sound installations among the ruins of the capitol building (it happened and it was incredible), and yes, snacking. For after we were done snapping these photos, we turned this galette into lunch.

P.S. I said it once, and I'll say it again--thanks to Stephanie Breijo for the amazing photos! Check out more of her work here.

Kentucky Lemon Chess Pie

Nothin' too fancy here, after all it is just pie. jes' pie. chess pie. See what I did there? That little abbreviation and perhaps mishearing is one of the many cited stories for how chess pie-- a very unassuming dessert of eggs, butter, sugar, flour and lemon or vinegar--got its name. Another guess is that the monniker came from "chest pie," (pronounced in a Southern accent) as in a pie that kept well in a chest or cupboard. I've also heard that it was a treat served in chess houses, though to me that sounds a little too literal to be likely. Whatever the story though, chess pie originated from England, and traveled across the pond, landing in the colonies and dispersing to New England and the South. It's related to vinegar pie, mock lemon pie, or Jefferson Davis pie, and when vinegar is substituted for lemon, it's a true Nothing-in-the-House pie, made with cheap, readily available ingredients. Don't be deceived though, its economy in no way compromises its deliciousness.

I got this recipe for a Kentucky lemon chess pie from the New York Times Heritage Cookbook, which features traditional recipes organized by region and specific to each state. It's just a tad fancier than a straight chess pie, but is still very simple. The cornmeal adds a little substance to the filling and the lemon zest and juice make it taste almost like the lemon bars familiar to my Midwest upbringing. Once baked, the top of the pie should form a crust, with the oozy lemony filling lying below.

 
Kentucky Lemon Chess Pie
Adapted from the New York Times Heritage Cookbook by Jean Hewitt

Ingredients
Nothing-in-the-House pie crust, halved
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter at room temperature
1 1/4 c. sugar
1 Tblsp. yellow corn meal
3 eggs
Grated rind of 1 lemon
Juice of 1 lemon
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp. salt

Directions
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. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Put the rolled and fitted crust back in the fridge while you prepare the filling.

2. Cream together the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl, using a wooden spoon or a stand mixer. Then beat in the cornmeal.

3. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the lemon rind, lemon juice, vanilla and salt until well combined. Pour the filling into the pie shell and bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the top of the filling forms a crust and a knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. Serve with blackberries and whipped cream.

I made this lemon chess pie last Saturday, which also marked the day that the pickles we made at our pickling party were ready for the eatin'! So on Sunday morning (err, afternoon?) after a late Saturday night, we took to brunch prep, making as many items with our pickles as we could (none in the chess pie, though, don't worry). My friend Lars made amazing fried chicken that was brined in pickle juice, and Luigia mixed up bloody marys also spiked with pickle juice as well as dilly beans, pickles okra, and cucumber spears. I cooked some eggs, and we took the porch for a leisurely meal on a rainy afternoon. Nothin' too fancy-- chess brunch.

Bourbon Icebox Pie and the DC Square Dance

I've made a lot of pies with bourbon before. Banana cream pies with peanut crusts and salty bourbon caramel, drunken pumpkin bourbon pies, peach-bourbon ginger hand pies...but I have never made, nor even heard of (but do tell if you have) a pie that is just straight. up. bourbon. Or at least I didn't until this Saturday. Brent and I were drinking coffee in the morning, leafing through the 1972 New York Times Heritage Cookbook, looking for a pie to bring to the DC Square Dance that evening, when we came upon a recipe for Kentucky bourbon pie. For a boy who does not have too much of a sweet tooth, this one really caught his attention. After every other recipe I mentioned..."But what about plum crumble (which I did end up also making--stay tuned)? Jeff Davis? Chess?" His only reply was "Meh. I dunno...that bourbon pie sounds pretty good...and perfect for a square dance."

Swayed by his inclination and old-timey argument (which is nothing new 'round here), along with the simplicity of the recipe, bourbon pie it was. I mean let's face it BOURBON + PIE. Ain't no grave gonna hold that down. The whole thang is essentially bourbon + whipped cream + egg yolks in a pie crust, though a gingersnap or Oreo crust would also be fantastic. The bourbon is uncooked (as is everything else, so make sure you get good, fresh, organic eggs) making it wayyyy boozy. Perfect for a raucous Saturday night square dance, indeed.

Bourbon Icebox Pie
Adapted from the New York Times Heritage Cookbook by Jean Hewitt

Ingredients
Nothing-in-the-House pie crust, halved (a gingersnap or Oreo crust would also be quite tasty)
5 egg yolks
3/4 c. sugar
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1/4 c. water
1/3 c. bourbon
1 tsp. orange zest
2 c. heavy cream, whipped
1/2 oz. unsweetened or dark chocolate, shaved

Directions

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. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

2. 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.

3. To prepare the filling, beat the egg yolks and gradually add the sugar until the mixture is light yellow in color.

4. Pour the 1/4 c. water into a small heat-safe bowl or top of a double boiler and sprinkle the gelatin on top. In a medium saucepan or bottom of a double boiler, bring additional water to a boil, placing the bowl of gelatin-water on top until the gelatin dissolves. Add the gelatin mixture to the egg yolk mixture. Using a whisk, mix well and add the bourbon.

5. Fold the whipped cream into the bourbon mixture and pour into the pie shell. Sprinkle chocolate shavings on top and refrigerate for at least 4 hours. Serve chilled.

The (blurry) Capitol City Possum Chasers: Brent Feito (bourbon pie purponent), Aaron Lewis, Paul Brown, Kevin Enoch, & John Schwab

While the bourbon pie was a purrrty good thing to bring to a square dance, it would have probably been best a tad colder--the church was hot with all those warm bodies rippin' & snortin' about! But even in a slightly melty state, the treat was well received by dancers and musicians alike, and it gave our gang a kick in the pants, fueling fiddle tunes and flatfoot steps, then Raven jukebox singalongs and 4am joke telling on a schmancy house party patio.

If any reader has any information or stories about bourbon pie, its relatives or derivatives, please get in touch!