Also, Pie

Mount Rushmore & Surrounding Park.

After the savage, natural beauty of the Badlands, it was admittedly a bit odd to head straight to Mount Rushmore.  The idea of carving a mountain, after all, is one of incredible human vanity.  That’s not to take away from the accomplishment, though — it is quite the awe-inspiring spectacle, and the story of its creation is cool, too.  Plus it’s nestled in a great park.  But the contrast was startling.

The last of Badlands National Park.

Badlands National Park, Continued

Badlands National Park.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  So my question, in the face of this landscape, is: why even bother?  Absolute beauty.

Yes, west.  

Specifically, to Olympia, WA, home of my new academic headquarters, The Evergreen State College.  This may come as a surprise to some of you.  That’s okay, it came as a bit of a surprise to me as well.  As you may recall, only a few brief months ago I was planning on attending Le Cordon Bleu Institute of Culinary Arts in Ottawa, which is decidedly northeast of home-base.  Instead, I acted on the historic impulse to move west, and also on the niggling feeling that I would be happier finishing my bachelor’s degree before I made any serious career-type moves.  I think my decision will be validated once classes start tomorrow — I’m looking forward to getting back into the swing of things.  

The one drawback is that Washington is really rather far away, and I had way too much stuff that I wanted to bring with me to cram into the one checked bag I would be allotted by most airlines.  Fortunately, there are all sorts of interesting things between Wisconsin and Washington (more, probably, then there are between Wisconsin and Ottawa), so what would have been a truly Herculean road trip was easily broken into manageable little chunks.  And of course, I took pictures.  

I’ll start with some shots from South Dakota:

This is the “world famous” Corn Palace, in Mitchell.  Though not entirely corn, it does feature rather large mosaic images on its facade that are indeed made of maize, as well as other dried-up natural materials…

…which you can clearly see here…

…and here.  So, kind of neat.  Not necessarily jaw-dropping.  But kind of neat. 

Of course, the Corn Palace pales in comparison to, say, Yellowstone National Park, but as we had at this point only come through Minnesota and part of South Dakota, it was a nice diversion.

As a side note, that afternoon we stopped for lunch at Pizza Etc., a little restaurant in Philip, SD, that our across-the-street neighbors used to run!  That was fun, too.  Although Philip is a wee bit off the beaten path.  Or indeed any path.

This, as far as I could tell, was the extent of “downtown.”  

More to follow.  And it gets really, really scenic.  So stay tuned.

I love strawberries, and I obviously love pie.  However, I do not love most strawberry pies… I’m talking of the ubiquitous, glazed, fresh strawberry pie.  The kind where you pre-bake the crust, stick in fresh berries, dump a mess of pink gloop over it all, and call it done — I did not want to make this kind of pie.  So I did a little research, and it turns out that strawberry pies weren’t always that way.  Back in the 1920s and ’30s (I found one recipe from 1929), most strawberry pies were baked.  As far as I can tell, these have fallen out of favor for two reasons: 

1. Strawberry pies are summer pies, and summer is the time when people search for creative ways to not use their oven.
2. Strawberries have gotten a bad reputation for becoming too soft when baked.  To this, I say pshaw.  All fruits get soft when they’re baked.  That doesn’t make them any less good. 

So.  Armed with an arsenal of old-timey recipes, I endeavored to create a mash-up, seeking the ultimate baked strawberry pie.  A Franken-pie, of sorts.

This is what I used:

• 1 recipe for basic double-crust pie, plus my SECRET INGREDIENT (see previous post)
• 5-6 cups washed, hulled, and halved strawberries (I cut some of the thicker ones into thirds)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 1/2 tbsp cornstarch
• 1 tbsp lime juice
• 1 tbsp lemon juice (This ordinarily would have been two tablespoons of lemon juice… but I couldn’t find our lemon juice.  So.  I improvised.)
• A few fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg

This is actually a pretty easy pie to make.  After the dough has chilled for about an hour, roll out the first disk and pop it in your pie shell.  Also, pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Then, put all your halved (or thirded… thirded?) strawberries into a bowl, and add the rest of the ingredients.  Very, very gently toss all the ingredients together, taking care not to crush the berries.  When they’re all nicely coated, check to see if there’s an excess of juice in the bottom of the bowl.  If so, pour it down the drain.  Then pop the filling into the shell, roll out the second disk of dough and plop it down on top of the first.  Crimp the edges, and pierce some ventilation holes in the top.  If you have an egg on hand, beat it thoroughly and brush it over the crust.  Sprinkle it with some raw sugar for a final touch.  Stick the pie in the oven for 30 minutes, then reduce the heat down to 375 degrees, and bake for a further 30-40 minutes, or until juices are thick and bubbling through the vents.  You’ll want to let this cool for at least 90 minutes before serving.

This is what the pie looked like, in various degrees of completion:

What a lovely little sequence.  I had this pie for breakfast the morning after it baked… and it was pretty good.  I was pleased.  The mint, lime, and nutmeg add subtle complexities to the taste, as does the lemon rind baked into the crust.  It’s definitely a different strawberry pie than the kind you’re probably used to, though.  But sometimes that’s a good thing.  

The pie, incidentally, was also met with positive reviews from family and friends.  

Okay, one day is long enough to make you wait.  My brand new, top-secret (except for being publicly available on the entire internet) ingredient for pie crusts is…………….. Dried Minced Lemon Peel!  It’s quite good, I recommend it.  I would stay and chat for longer, but there is a slightly unconventional (i.e. old-fashioned) pie in the oven presently, and it quite probably requires my assistance at this point.  Ciao!

Peaches were the theme of my pie-related experimentation this weekend, which resulted in a pair of highly improvisational pies.  Which is to say, I decided to forego recipes.  Nonetheless, I tried to take careful note of what I used, so the pies can be loosely approximated in some future kitchen.  First, the standard, basic, traditional peach pie:

You Will Need:

• Standard dough for a double-crust pie
• At least 3-4 pounds of peaches.  This is probably seven or eight decent-sized fruits.  Also, you’ll need to blanch them, peel them, halve them and core them. More on all that to follow.
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 2 tbsp cornstarch
• 2 tbsp lemon juice (you’ll probably want to kick this down to about 2 tsp unless, like me, you love tart flavors.  Or just serve it with a bunch of ice cream, which would cut down on the tartness significantly).
• 1/4 tsp ground cardamom 
• Slightly more cinnamon than cardamom
• 1 egg, beaten (to brush over crust)
• 1-2 tbsp raw sugar (to sprinkle over crust)

Alright.  While your dough disks are refrigerating, you’ll want to bring a large pot of water to a boil.  Cut a little “X” in the bottom of each peach and, when the water’s boiling, dunk them in for about one minute.  This will simply help you peel the skin away:

Once you’ve peeled them, halve them and core them.  Then, slice ‘em up so they’re somewhere between 1/2 and 3/4 of an inch thick.  Toss them into a bowl with the lemon juice to prevent discoloring.  Then, add in the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon and cardamom.  Ground cardamom might be tricky to find, so I ground my own with a mortar and pestle (any excuse to use a mortar and pestle is a good one).  This involved cracking open the pods, dumping out the tiny seeds, and crushing them all up:

Once all the ingredients are in there, gently toss the peaches and make sure they’re all evenly coated.  If there’s a lot of excess juice in there, pour some of it out and discard it.  Dump the coated peaches into the pie shell (oh yeah, you should have rolled that out and put it into the plate by now).  Pop the other disk of dough over the top, and crimp the edges.  Pierce the crust with a knife in five or six places, unless it tore while you were moving it.  Mine did.  The point here is ventilation.  Beat the egg until it’s well-combined, then brush it over the top crust.  Sprinkle on the raw sugar and pop it into the oven for 40-45 minutes at 400 degrees Fahrenheit, or until the crust is golden-brown and the juices are thick and bubbling out of the vents.  Then let it cool for a bit and you’re ready to serve!

Next, I decided to ratchet up the experimentation and combine the remaining peaches with some blueberries for an interesting sweet-sour combination pie.  Here’s what you need:

• Standard dough for double-crust pie (plus my brand new secret ingredient, which I will reveal to you in a later post)
• 2 1/2 pounds peaches, blanched, halved, pitted, and sliced as above
• About 2 cups of blueberries
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• A bit of light brown sugar, too
• About 2 tbsp lemon juice
• Around a teaspoon of pure vanilla extract (I kind of slipped and let some more dump in than I intended… but it was still good)
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 egg, beaten, for crust
• Some raw sugar, for crust

And here’s what you do:

After you’ve blanched & peeled & halved &c the peaches, toss them into a bowl with the lemon juice.  Add in the blueberries, vanilla, sugars and flour, and gently toss until the fruit is coated.  Again, if there’s a lot of juice in the bottom of the bowl, go ahead and pour some of it into the sink.  After you’ve rolled out the first crust and popped it into the shell, dump in the filling.  It’s pretty:

However, you have to drape the top crust over so it doesn’t lose moisture while baking. Once again, though, cut some vents in the top of the shell:

Notice the aforementioned secret ingredient?  It’s those little flecks in the crust.  Any guesses?  Brush the top crust with the beaten egg (you can splash some milk in there, too), and sprinkle it with sugar.  Slide it into the a 400 degree Fahrenheit oven, and bake it for about an hour, give or take.  Just check it periodically.  You’ll know it’s done when the juices are thick and bubbling through the vents:

Happy Baking!

Up Next: Something to do with those beautiful strawberries I picked this morning… 

P.S. Check out the “Submit Your Recipes” link at the top of this page!  I’d love to hear from you.

This is my backyard!  Ain’t it purdy?

This is probably the most delicious thing I have ever made.  So.  Without any more adieu than is required:

Warm Creamy Lime Pie with Spiced Nectarine Sauce:

Part I: The Pie

The first thing you should know about this pie is that it follows an old Mexican peasant recipe, a copy of which I was able to track down in the online archives of a cooking magazine (it was published in 1987).  In other words, this is not your run-of-the-mill custardy lime pie.  For starters, it uses a traditional crust, unlike so many key lime pies that use graham crackers.  Furthermore, one of its key ingredients is crema espesa, this deliciously buttery thick cream that apparently is pretty much found only at Mexican markets.  But never fear!  You can make your own, and it’s super-fun.  Only thing is, you need to make it about a day in advance.  More on that later.  Lastly, this is a single-crust pie.  For those of you keeping score at home, this means that you should divide all the ingredients in half, then proceed to follow the instructions as per usual.  

HOWEVER, there is a twist.  The crust needs to be pre-baked in order for this pie to work.  So after the dough has chilled for an hour or more, what you’ll want to do is pre-heat your oven to 400 degrees, roll out the dough into a pie shell, and grab some aluminum foil.  Lightly oil the foil, and place it oiled-side-down into the shell, snugly against the dough.  Then (and this is very important), pour some dried beans or some rice or, if you’re super-advanced, some pie weights onto the foil.  This will help secure the dough and prevent it from bubbling and forming pockets and losing its shape.  I used dried beans for mine.  Pop it into the oven for 15 minutes:

Once the fifteen minutes are up, reduce the oven temperature down to 350 degrees, and remove the foil and weights.  Set the crust back in and bake it for a further 8-10 minutes.  Just make sure to check if it’s bubbling/misbehaving every few minutes… if it is, take a spoon and smooth it back into shape.  Once this has baked, you can set it aside for pretty much as long as you like.  

For the filling, you need the fully matured home-made crema espesa.  To make this, all you’ll need is one cup of heavy whipping cream, and two tablespoons of buttermilk.  Dump the whipping cream into a saucepan over low heat, and stir it just until the chill is off.  Remove it from heat, throw in the buttermilk, stir it all up, and pour it into a jar.  Set the cap lightly on top, but don’t tighten it.  Then sit the jar in a warm place - preferably 80-90 degrees - for 12-24 hours.  This will thicken it substantially, but it ain’t done yet.  After incubating, tighten the lid and put it in the fridge for at least four hours.  Phew.  

Once all that has been accomplished, here’s what you’ll need:

• 3 Eggs
• 1.5 tbsp fresh lime zest
• 2/3 cup sugar
• That crema espesa.  I suppose I should tell you that you can use crème fraîche instead, but I personally think that making your own stuff is way more fun.
• 8 tbsp lime juice (you’ll need about 3 limes for this)
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 3 tbsp orange juice
• Powdered sugar, for garnish

Here is a picture of some shaved limes, one of which is being squashed for its juices:

And here’s what you do: Crack the eggs into a large bowl, and add in the lime zest, sugar, and flour.  Beat it by hand until it’s all combined.  You may be tempted to use some electronic gadget to help you beat this.  Allow me to remind you that this is a Mexican peasant dish.  Put it away, please.  Plus, it’s easy to do by hand.  Once you’ve finished, stir in the cream and the juices, pour it all into the pre-baked shell and stuff it in the lower third of your oven, set to 350 degrees, for 45-50 minutes:

 Another way to know if it’s all done is to stick a knife between the center and the crust and see if it comes out clean.  For all the fuss with the crust and the cream, it’s pretty simple to finish up.  And, it’s delicious.  So delicious, in fact, that when I tried to take a picture of the final product, five slices disappeared before I was able to get off a shot:

Part II: The Spiced Nectarine Sauce

I wish I could give you a more specific recipe for this.  Tragically, I cannot, as it was entirely a product of random kitchen experimentation.  It turned out really, really well though, so I’ll try to roughly guide you through it.  

You’ll need two ripe nectarines, some ground ginger and ground cinnamon, some lemon juice, rather more orange juice, some honey and just a bit of brown sugar.  Halve and pit the nectarines.  I suppose you could peel them, too, if you’re the proactive sort, but I couldn’t be bothered to and mine turned out just fine.  Fill up a saucepan with just more than enough water to cover the bottom, and throw in all the ingredients.  Boil them, so that the liquid starts to reduce slightly.  Then, pour it all into a blender and purée.  And there you have it.  This will probably yield slightly more than you’ll need, but that’s okay!  Use it on ice cream!  Try to make some sort of drink out of it!  Have it with scones!  Swap it with chutney!  I do not have a picture of this for you, but mostly it’s just orange and liquidy.    

Happy (Cr)eating!