The Pie Project

There's a reason I've been slow to post lately - I'm west of Seattle (yes, there is something west of Seattle), land of intermittent internet connections. The north Kitsap Peninsula contains trees, salmon, old loggers, new yuppies, rocky beaches, tons of berry bushes, my huge family, and hundreds of pie bakers. I come back here and I'm put in my place. Of course you make the crust from scratch. And my family will tell me if there's too much cinnamon or the filling is undercooked in the middle. They like my pies, don't get me wrong, but it's a far cry from the city kids I usually eat with. Turns out I'm a bit of city kid myself when I get back; the lazy days and long drive to the grocery store (well, to anything) throw me off at first. Then I adjust. I don't go online, I wander the seaweed-y beach, I tromp around for hours searching out berries ... I couldn't live like this all the time, but it's pretty good stuff for a couple weeks. Morgan an

I bought peaches on the side of the highway between Dallas and Houston, farm-fresh and proffered by a bored teenager. The bag sat in the car smelling of sun and promising a juicy pie all the way home. Then I tried making it. Peaches, who knew? That is some hard-to-get fruit. My kitchen looked like a peach massacre site. My cookbook blithely says you can dunk the peaches in boiling water a minute to easily remove their skins. I burned my fingertips pulling off strips of mushy peach fuzz, only to run out of fruit. Turns out those little suckers had huge pits. All bone, no flesh, totally disappointing (hmm, does this apply to people?) Luckily, J.O.C. suggests a peach raspberry combo and I had frozen raspberries. I tossed in two cups and hoped for the best. Hello, beautiful accident. The filling was deep mauve-orange and rich as a sunset. Thick, fruity slices held the firm sweetness of peaches with the tarter, brighter bite of raspberries. Just. Wow. I learned a couple of things. One, l

Making pie makes me happy. That's probably obvious. But really, it gives me that all-is-well, everything-in-its-time, you're-okay feeling. I suppose it's about the zen-like focus a pie takes and the basic pleasure of creation. Or, the fact that I associate pie with the best of my childhood: big family, big forest, small town. Speaking of which, I'm off to WA on Monday for more summer fruit pie glory. Blackberry (two kinds), strawberry-rhubarb, cherry, and maybe, if I'm persistent with my pickin' fingers, huckleberry. They snap in your mouth like tangy little firecrackers and damn, they make great pie. As a kid, I wasn't often rolling out flaky crust - I was more about adventuring into "sticker bushes" to collect berries than pie construction. But still, getting flour all over my hands, the smell of fresh cut fruit, brings me back. It's such a simple, summery indulgence. Lately, I've made a peach raspberry and an apple crumble pie. Both lusc

I'd always looked down on cream pies - at our house we were fruit pie purists, and I only saw cream pies at chain restaurants, drooping under too much Cool Whip. Then I made key lime pie (custard, I suppose, but cream pie-ish) and my tastebuds were opened. Cream pies made from scratch are de-LICIOUS. Oh my god. Silky and decadent without being too sweet. And they're not hard, though there are a few more steps than with fruit pie. I've made this J.O.C. chocolate cream twice and like it best with whipped cream and a butter crust; graham cracker would probably be good too. Oh, and I added a secret strawberry layer. There must be a metaphor in that, but I slipped them in because my friend requested chocolate mousse with strawberries, and this was as close as I could get. Classic Chocolate Cream Pie 1 single BAKED pastry crust (or crumb crust) Whisk in a medium saucepan (no heat yet) 1 cup sugar 3 tablespoons cornstarch 1/4 tsp salt Add gradually (still no heat) 2 1/2 cups whole

Folks are scared of pie crust. I bring a pie someplace and invariably hear: "oh, you made the crust from scratch? That's so hard." Well, no. Calculus is so hard. Making pie crust just takes a little gumption. You can mess it up badly and it will still taste good (as long as you use real butter). This picture of Nadia Comaneci at the 1976 Olympics captures the spirit of crust-making. Dive right in. Fearless Pie Crust 1 cup (2 sticks) of butter plus a couple tablespoo ns 2 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour Pinch of salt 3 to 4 tablespoons of ice cold water Everything should be cold. I keep the butter and flour in the freezer awhile before. I also pour my water over ice and refrigerate crust when not rolling. You need a rolling pin, flat surface, plenty of flour, waxed paper, plastic wrap, a mixing bowl, and a pastry cutter (see my secret weapon post). Also, fearlessness and patience. Don't overmix. When in doubt: more butter, less water. Mix the flour and salt, dic

I just ordered this book from Amazon. Three hundred pie recipes plus a bajillion different kinds of crust from a bigger pie aficionado than me. Just what I needed! I'll pair this with the trusty J.O.C. (Joy of Cooking) to reach pie nirvana. Pie-vana? I probably need to stop with the pie puns. I almost titled this post Piecrastination... I really, really, really want to write about pie crust. But I'm up early for a reason, and it's not this blog. The coffee is fresh. Novel, here I come. I'm rusty after a long weekend away, and dragging my feet. It's hard not to treat writing like punishment, sometimes. But - that's the best way to kill it. I'm trying for the positive it's-just-creation (like pie) attitude. So, here I go: Word document, open.

I'm visiting M's relatives in big-hair, down-home Dallas , and talked with her grandma, Martha, about pie. Lemon chiffon was her mom's speciality: "she'd fluff up those egg whites and fold 'em in." But not Martha. Seventy and as feminist as anyone at my women's college, she buys pie from the Kroger's freezer if she wants one. We moved from pie to women doctors and she said in her time you didn't hear about them. "Why?" She snorted. "Because they were all at home, baking pie!" My own grandma is a northern version of Martha. She appreciates a homemade pie, but she'd just as soon order something frozen from the Schwan 's truck. For her generation, baking a pie is synonymous with keeping a woman in her place. Maybe they wouldn't say it quite like that, but I can't help thinking they might. I also think of my old professors, second-wave feminists who couldn't believe the retro attitudes of their "third-wa

I've been wanting comfort, and Blueberry strikes me as that plus patriotic, so I'd already decided on it for the Fourth when my friend Glenn requested it, too. It fits him: blueberry is a stand-up citizen, tasty, not pretentious, but juicy under the surface. It's sour enough to be interesting and full of antioxidants you need though you're not sure why. This pie made its debut at a Fourth of July party where we celebrated the USA with beer and exploding watermelons. Despite the fact that Glenn's not quite an American citizen. No big deal. Blueberry pie might be patriotic, but it doesn't have to be all-American. It could be, say, all-Canadian. Blueberry scared me, though. Northwesterners are more into the hardy blackberry, and I'm thrown off by the super juiciness of the unadulterated blueberry (read: soupy when sliced). You can dose it with starch, only to get gelatinous mush. I hate sticky, syrupy deli pie! Hence this blog: never again a bad candied-up pie

I love you, pastry cutter. You're the most beautiful baby in "kitchen" aisle at the grocery store. You don't deserve to gather dust with the plastic egg poachers and meat thermometers and ramekins ( what is a ramekin for?). Unlike them, you make a great crust. Simple handheld grip and that butter crumbles sweetly into flour. Who cares about food processors or mixers? Seriously. My grandma used a pastry cutter that looked just like you.

This is my blog about pie, otherwise known as the pie blog, otherwise known as my #1 reason to eat too much buttery crust and not do my work. But I think it's good for me, anyway. Writing a pie, baking a novel: Simple ingredients, complex effect. Occasional disasters sometimes taste good. It’s time to expand my pie horizons, revisit old flames, procrastinate with flour, experiment. Fruits. Custards. Chess. Meringue. Peanut butter. The Joy of Cooking and I (and recipe makers of all kinds) are going head to head every week. Or hand in hand, I hope. You think pie is for old ladies? Neo-fifties housewives? Refined, Paris-visiting, cookbook-writing foodies? Sure, and more power to them. But it's time for a pie revolution. Pie is equal opportunity. It’s feminist, socialist, progressive, hip, down-to-earth, sustainable, and always lovable. It will not be labeled. But it will be…okay, I have to say it: eaten. So, welcome! I can't promise the shiniest food bloggiest blog of all the