A Pie In The Hand... (Part 2 – In which I teach myself the difference between apples and cherries.)

It's like comparing apples and oranges, or so the saying goes. Of course I do have to make an alteration or two: it's like comparing apple pies and cherry pies. Yes, they're both fruit. Yes, they're both pies. No, what works for one doesn't necessarily work for the other. I've baked so many pies that you'd think I would know all this by now. Well, you'd be wrong.

Truth be told, I haven't baked nearly the number of cherry pies as I would like. This is strange when you consider the fact that cherry pie is one of my all-time favorites. For some reason or another, I always seem to default to apple when pie comes to shove. I guess part of the reason is that I can get pretty decent apples year-round, but cherries have a more definitive season so I have to do the day-at-a-time time travel thing until I can get fresh cherries again. This means, of course, that I'm going to have to make as many cherry pies, cheese cakes, tarts, turnovers and ice cream cakes (among other dishes) as I can before the season ends.

Wait. Did I just fill my dance card for the summer?

The first cherries in NYC turn up at more than $6 per pound in most stores and I just laugh at them. I am immune to their taunting. I waited until they hit the price point that makes sense to me and snagged a couple of pounds to prep for version 1.0 of my hand-held cherry pie. I wanted to see if the filling recipe in my Good Housekeeping cookbook was up to the challenge. Sadly, it wasn't. I ended up with a soupy mess that made working with the crust rounds difficult. I also made the dough rounds a bit too thin; that was something I'd have to really work on. Version 1.0 was a qualified disappointment. I say qualified because we still ate most of them.

This was my first practical lesson in apples and cherries: it's easier to make an apple filling for a pie of this kind than it is to make a cherry filling. Cherries, obviously, throw off a lot more water than do apples. With hand-held pies there's no margin for error because when you fold the dough circle in half, the filling can shift and you have to contain and seal it quickly. Too much water causes the dough to disintegrate and makes that job so much harder.

My second lesson wasn't about the filling; it was about the crust. Or, rather, the ingredients I use for the crust. I always put a bit of nutmeg in my pie crusts. Most folks use cinnamon but I'm not a great fan of that spice, so I use nutmeg instead. I made this batch of dough the same as I did for the batches in previous tests with apple but the flavors of the nutmeg and the lard simply overwhelmed the cherries. It was mostly the nutmeg that fought with the filling, though – something I never have to worry about with apples. I try to avoid adding strife to my pies. I mean, no one wants a mouthful of ingredient anger, right? Talk about bitter!

I'd have to wait for v2.0 to solve the crust problem, though. My first priority for v1.2 was rescuing the filling.

A quick word about "versions": I've co-opted software version numbering for no real reason. I just think it's cool in a geeky sort of way.

Quick word about "versions" ends.

Since I had followed the Good Housekeeping recipe, I figured it was too late to do a reduction because of the corn starch (which is what I taught myself last year with the Rainier cherry and peach pie. If anyone knows differently, please let me know). The one thing I was comfortable doing was adding some lemon juice to the mix. Over the years, I've found that lemon juice can make a big difference in my pie fillings; the citrus seems to enhance without overpowering – as long as I don't add too much.

Technically, I'm not supposed to fly by the seat of my pants when I'm baking, it being about chemistry and science and stuff. There are times when that's exactly what I have to do, however, even though it appalls me. Granted, I wouldn't experiment like this if I were baking for guests, but this was a work in progress. So, I made an educated guess, added some freshly-squeezed lemon juice to the cherries, rolled out, cut and filled (this time being more careful about the excess water) a second batch of pies.

And I almost got it right.

This batch baked up pretty well and the filling was tasty but it was still too soupy to work with efficiently (and neatly). The addition of the lemon juice was a good referee for the cherry vs. nutmeg battle but it was clear I needed to work on that, too. I had a ways to go. And I still hadn't been able to figure out what to do about the all-important frosting/glaze. One thing at a time.

A plate full of pies!

Bagged, stamped and ready!

However, these were good pies. Nutmeg not withstanding, the crust was flaky and just thick enough to stand up to handling and transporting. Michele shared one with a co-worker who proclaimed it delicious. He, in turn shared it with his wife (I suppose he cut it in half and took it home – way to score points, dude!) who is now a fan. I said she should tell them that the next version would be even better.

It will be!

Currently listening to: Neutralize - Shining Through The Light (Feat. Emily Underhill) (Cross Them Out Remix)

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An Interlude of the Geek Kind (Or: Neil Gaiman's in this blog!)

Most people who know me know that I am a geek. I collect (still) comic books, love sci-fi, love all the Star Trek shows (with the exception of "Enterprise"), own more than a few space ship models, used to fly model rockets, am an avid reader of science blogs and literature, and I've dressed up on more than one occasion as Vulcan Star Fleet Officer (complete with ears and yes, I own a blue tunic). I've watched all of "Fringe" twice (so far) and all of "Firefly" at least five times (so far). I tell you this so that when I tell you that what happened to me recently blew my other geek experiences away, I want you to understand my full meaning. (See? I even geeked-out just now, in that last sentence.)

In movies, comics, television, astrophysics and books, used to worlds colliding. In my real life? Not so much. Last weekend we had friends in for a few days from San Francisco. As a gift for the house, Whitney brought us Mexican-style chorizo, which is difficult to get here. Most chorizo sold in NYC is Spanish-style – cured and hard. Mexican-style is uncooked and makes a great addition to scrambled eggs for breakfast tacos. For some reason she felt that wasn't a good enough gift, so after perusing our bookshelves, she asked if we were Neil Gaiman fans. Um...yeah!

A brief digression: If you don't know who Neil Gaiman is, I won't disown you but I will be a little disappointed. He's one of the best and most influential authors of fantasy fiction in comics, novels and graphic novels of the past two decades. His novel, Coraline, was made into a movie, as was his illustrated novel, Stardust. His award-winning comic book series, "Sandman" is legendary. In case you've missed the point: the man is a brilliant, and famous, and brilliant. And one of my favorite authors of all time.

Brief digression ends.

Both Michele and I own quite a few of his books and graphic novels, so, obviously, we're fans, so I couldn't see what Whitney was getting at until she continued. "We're headed up to Boston after this and we'll be seeing Neil so if you want, I can take a book for him to sign." World collision number one. I know someone who is friends with Neil Gaiman! Apparently, the way I cradled my copy of Stardust determined which book we sent.

In keeping with an old family tradition, I planned to send them off on the second leg of their trip with some treats. Cranberry scones seemed appropriate because they're easy to make, taste great and travel well. Then there was mention of sharing the scones with Neil and everything changed. I felt my brain lurch forward, because of inertia ("bodies, and brains, in motion tend to stay in motion"), and smash against the inside of my skull. Wait. World collision number two. Neil Gaiman might actually eat something I bake?

If that was indeed going to be the case, I seriously needed to reconsider what I sent and the only serious consideration was lemon ginger creams. Go with your strong suit, yes? It took two days but I had a couple of boxes to give Whitney, one of which was for Neil and Amanda Palmer (his wife, who is also a famous musician, singer and performer). Two days later, my phone alerted me to an incoming message. Attached was the below picture.

Neil Gaiman + a box of my lemon ginger cream cookies = GEEK SQUEEEE!

Another message followed: "They very much appreciated them." I actually squealed with delight! You can ask Michele if you don't believe me.

I'll return to the handheld pie adventure shortly (cherry season is beginning, so there will be lots to talk about) but I had to share this first. And Neil, if you ever find yourself reading this: thank you for helping a geeky baker fulfill a wish he didn't even know he had.

Currently listening to: Feist - How My Heart Behaves

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The Way Of The Crust (Or: Make Up Your Mind!)

If there's one thing I know about myself as a baker it's that when I find a recipe I like, I stick with it. My goal is consistency: consistency of taste, of smell, of texture and most of all, consistency of enjoyment. Whatever dish I make, it has to be at least as good as the last time I made it so that my guests, or whomever is eating it, get the most pleasure out of the experience as possible. That's why I've used the same pie crust recipe for over twenty years now. Sure, I've refined it and made adjustments in my technique but it's still the same butter and shortening base I found over two decades ago.

A temporal side note: I get a kick out of using phrases such as "over two decades ago". It makes me sound like I've actually got some historical legitimacy to what I bake. But to be honest, I've just baked as the situation required. It's only now, with the advent of this blog, that I've taken to analyzing my process. In writing this blog, I pull from the past to talk about the present and then plan the future...which makes me see and experience the past in completely new ways. There. That ought to give my big sister, Karla, a fit or two. She's not overly fond of time travel stories. (*wink*)

Temporal side note ends.

My procurement of Handheld Pies lit up  a couple of light bulbs in my baking brain. Not quite like this...but very close. Okay. Not like that at all. What the recipes and the stories in the book got me to thinking about was my crust recipe. The authors are big proponents of using lard in their crusts. True, they use butter and cream cheese as well, but they despise shortening. My standard crust is a butter/shortening combination, so such a disdainful opinion of my old friend Mr. Crisco took me aback! Outrageous! How dare they besmirch the integrity...huffupuffgrumblesnarf! My indignation lasted all of ten seconds because I remember having desserts baked with lard, french fries made with beef tallow, and all manner of other foods cooked in, or prepared with, animal fats. I remembered how good those dishes tasted (seriously, there's nothing quite like homemade french fries cooked in leftover bacon grease). With those memories wringing out my salivary glands, I decided to forgive the shortening slight and give their recipe a try.

The first thing I had to do was locate a source of lard. Over the last four decades or so, lard has gotten a bad rap, despite it's long and storied history of adding great taste and texture to foods. Various and sundry vegetable oils took its place because they were supposedly more healthy. Butter suffered in the same way, being supplanted in most American homes by margarine and "spreads", which neither taste as good, nor cook up as well, as the real thing. There are more and more studies which say that butter is actually better for us than margarine. The jury is still out on lard, although it is experiencing a resurgence in some corners. I just needed to figure out if my corner of the baking world was going to be one of them. Lard isn't sold in grocery stores in NYC and I didn't fancy buying pig fat and rendering it into lard myself. There are on-line sources but I really wanted to find someone local I could trust to have a good quality supply.

Enter Schaller & Weber, a great butcher shop on 2nd Avenue at 86th Street, just a hop, skip and jump away from our apartment! They've been in business for almost a century and I figured if anyone in the city would have lard, they would. I was right and for three dollars and change per pound, the price was right. Not only that but it's truly a great store to wander through. It's not very big but it's jam-packed with some of the coolest stuff – from European cookies to award-winning sausages to interesting condiments. Schaller & Weber is one of my new favorite places to shop.

So. Now that I had what I needed, I was ready to start The Great Pie Crust Battle! Said battle would be between my classic crust ("A"), a one hundred percent lard crust ("B") and a fifty-fifty butter/lard crust ("C"). I figured I'd make enough of each type to send batches to my father, some friends in Salem, MA and have enough left over for testing here. That, of course meant making a lot of pie dough. And prepping a lot of apples for filling. A challenge that would daunt a less dauntless baker than I! Fortunately for me, I have strong hands and a couple of sharp knives. Yes, I know that my goal is to create my version of the Hostess cherry pie but cherry season was months away when I started this project and store-bought frozen cherries are pretty bad. Apples would have to stand in.

Assembling the different test batches wasn't difficult; I just used the copper cutter on the dough, plopped a dollop of apples (yes, a dollop) on one half.

I just like using the word "dollop"!

Then I folded the other half of the dough over the dollop, sealed it (this time with a fork because my crimper skills are woeful at best) and poked vent holes in the top.

Sealed and vented

One thing I learned when rolling, cutting and folding each of the different doughs was that the all-lard crust behaved much better than the other two. It rolled out better and sealed easier (without use of any liquid along the edges). That in and of itself was almost enough to make me decide to adopt it as my new standard! Almost. I wouldn't be able to make that decision until after I'd baked all the little pies and sent them to my designated testers.

Oooo! Little pies!

The total number of pies I made for testing turned out to be forty-two. I sent three batches of eight to my father in Florida, three batches of two to my friends, the Landsmans, in Salem, MA, and kept three batches of four here for me and Michele, and as it turned out, two friends visiting from Seattle (thanks Sandra and Jeff). Everyone here chose "B," the lard crust, as the tastiest and best texture and consistency. The crusts held together better and yet retained an exceptional flakiness throughout the devouring experience. "A", the butter/Crisco recipe pies was more crumbly than flaky. And "C", butter + lard, was good, but not as tasty as "B".

My father actually took the samples I sent him on a tour of northern Florida. (They held up surprisingly well for having spent time in the U.S. Postal system as well as traveling with him from town to town.) He shared some his sisters who live near him in Lynn Haven, took some to the ancestral home in Blountstown to share with family there, jaunted around to Tallahassee and got the opinion of his older brother and finally back to Lynn Haven. Overwhelmingly, "B" was the favorite, although there were a few of votes for "C" and one for "A".

Joe and Jan in Salem also picked "B" as the best tasting but "C" was close behind. It's always good to get opinions from transplanted New Yorkers, in my opinion. ("All yummy, anyway...")

Overall, I liked working with the lard crust more than I did my standard crust. It just handled better on all fronts. I think I've got a new go-to recipe (which I'll spend another twenty years perfecting). That's not to say I won't use the old recipe for some things but I think I'm ready to decommission it – which means I'll post it here in the near future.

An epiphany : I noticed that baking with the lard added something familiar that I couldn't quite identify, something that feather-touched the edges of my memory. It wasn't until I'd made a few batches of  the "B" test that it came to me: it was a "homey" smell that I used to associate with my Granma's (my father's mother) kitchen. That little kitchen in that small town in the panhandle of Florida had some of the most wonderful smells ever, and lard was one of the components of that mouth-watering aroma. Baking these pies brought a bit of that to my little kitchen on the upper east side of Manhattan. It felt great to be able to make that connection.

End epiphany

Currently listening to: Amanda Ghost - Silver Lining

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Q: What Did I Learn In School Today?

A: Bread baking basics!

I had a baking class this morning, April 6, 2013, at Le Pain Quotidien and for three hours I was a student again for the first time ("for the first time" because this was the first formal baking class I've ever taken). Exciting! But let me back up and give you the history of this little adventure.

In January, Michele and I went to Portland, OR to visit with her brother and his family. In an effort to be proactive in seeking out interesting things I wanted to do while there, I did a little reading on the local bread culture. Since Portland is a foodie kind of town I figured there would be some good bakeries from which to sample bread. I was also hoping to talk with some of the bakers to get some tips on technique. Well, the sampling happened but the talking did not. The bakeries were top-notch but none of them seemed conducive to picking the brains of the bakers.

Fast forward to last month. Michele and I went to see Eddie Izzard workshop material for his next tour (my sides hurt from laughing so much, by the way) and while we were walking around the neighborhood, waiting for the venue to open, we passed the Le Pain Quotidien on Bleeker Street. You can look in one of the windows to check out their kitchen set up. I did that very thing and noticed a sign that mentioned they taught baking classes there! Now, I'll admit that I'm not the biggest fan of chain restaurants in general, and I'd never eaten at any of the L.P.Q.s anywhere in the country but seeing that sign changed my opinion of them by more than a little bit!

Advance the disc slightly to last night. We had dinner with friends but I was a bit preoccupied because I couldn't stop thinking about the class. Surprisingly, I was nervous! I understood that it was a basics class and that no one was going to be judging my work; it wasn't the C.I.A. or Peter Kump's for crying out loud! I kept bumping my head against that case of nerves until the answer fell out: I was nervous about being in front of a professional baker (a job do not in the least aspire to have) but more than that I was afraid that I would get more deeply bitten by the bread baking bug. Why? Even from my admittedly limited experience, I understand the commitment it takes to become a great bread baker and how obsessive that goal can become for some folks. I swore to myself that I wouldn't go down that road. The rewards are great but the challenges are many and I shuddered at the limitations of my kitchen and my equipment. And I just couldn't imagine myself in the same company as the bread bakers I've been reading about lately.

Creep into this morning. I made sure I was at L.P.Q in plenty of time to get a cup of coffee, which i enjoyed.

Coffee in a little bowl! And a picture taken with my iPad camera!

I also enjoyed the fact that the late morning wasn't wall-to-wall customers; I was able to sit quietly and try to chill out my anxieties before the class started. The other element of the class that made me nervous was baking with/in front of other people. I'm kind of a solitary baker. I'm not used to having a whole lot of people watching me as a wrestle with a recipe or breeze through prepping a dish. With the class, I'd have to contend not only with the eyes of my fellow bakers (and the instructor), but the eyes of anyone who passed by the giant storefront window! Ack! Just drink the coffee. Chill out. Breathe.

Brie, the baker who would be teaching us called the class together, issued us our aprons (I brought my own hat, of course), went over the syllabus and some baking terms then got us started. Three hours and five different breads later, all my anxieties proved to be unfounded or highly-manageable and we were sitting down to a lunch of pizza we'd all made for ourselves (mine was artichoke hearts and bacon). We baked two styles of baguettes, raisin and sunflower seed batards, chocolate-, and butter-, filled French dinner rolls, a dough we could save and bake later, and the pizza. Brie was an amazing teacher and even though she probably didn't know it, she gave me confidence that I could become whatever kind of bread baker I want. There's nothing like learning from someone who loves what she's doing!

All the bread in my world (this afternoon, that is).

The épi de blé baguette and one of the French dinner rolls.

The raisin and sunflower seed batard, a roll and the baguette. All were such fun to make!

It was great to have some practical, in-person, instruction in some of the techniques I've been reading about in Peter Reinhart's books and that was well-worth the price of admission! All that and a nifty handout to refresh my memory from time to time! I'm looking forward to taking Part 2 of this class!

Currently listening to: Joan Armatrading - I'm Lucky

(I'll return to my handheld pie adventure in the next post.)

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Proof of Concept

I thought I should prove the handheld pie concept to myself. Actually, all I really wanted to do was use up the leftover pie dough sitting in the refrigerator and testing a couple of ideas for the handheld pies was a good excuse. I needed to work some things out before I began testing in earnest. Prepping the apples wasn't a problem; I just cut them smaller than I do for a larger pie. The rest of the filling prep was exactly the same.

I didn't have anything that would cut the right shape. Hostess fruit pies aren't true half-moons; they're more like rectangles with rounded corners.

That's no half-moon! That's a fruit pie!

It looks like I'll have to give my friends at Copper Gifts another custom cutter challenge. Until then, though, I'll decided to use the ice cream sandwich cutter as a stand-in. It worked like a charm.

Just add filling!

For this go round, I just cut sides, plopped filling on one, then married the them together. I used buttermilk to help the edges seal. I know a lot of folks use egg whites or cream. I just like taste buttermilk adds to crusts. Also, this was the first time I'd ever used a crimper for the edges. I wasn't sure how it would work but I have to say I'm a firm believer in this little device!

Crimped and ready for oven action!

Pie life with cutter and crimper.

When it was all said and done, I retrieved four lovely little pies from the oven!

Pies as finger food.

They were quite tasty and fit our hands just right! The crust, even after the dough sat in the fridge for a couple of weeks, was still tender. That didn't surprise me so much because the recipe I use seems to have an excellent shelf life. I can't believe I'm about to start test two other recipes for this project but I'm curious about some other ingredients. I'll talk about those next time.

Currently listening to: Diana Ross - I'm Coming Out

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A Pie In The Hand...

Allow me to revisit a topic of conversation: pie. 

Sidebar: I reserve the right to take up previously discussed topics when I come across new information or techniques come up. Or if I danged-well feel like it. This is a journey for me and the path to my becoming a better baker has many a fork (no pun intended). I promise to do my best to not bore you along the way.

Sidebar ends.

I know I've mentioned that I love pie. I love baking it. I love eating it. I love serving it. No matter what kind of pie I bake, be it apple, cherry, egg custard or chicken pot, I want it to be the best I've ever baked, served and eaten!

This laudable goal does open me up to some very tough, shall we say, "evaluation," however. Is the crust sturdy enough to hold together when those first incisions are made? Or does it crumble under the pressure? Did I make the edges too tough to easily cut through so that the first slice lifts out easily? And the filling! Did I mix in enough flour to hold it together so that it doesn't spill out from between the crust after that slice is removed? In the case of an apple pie, is the filling cooked enough so that there's a pleasantly delicate crunch when someone takes a bite? Is the crust flaky? Are the edges burned? All of these questions and more race through my mind a split second before the pastry knife descends to cut that first slice. And don't get me started about what my mind puts me through now that I've started making cherry pies with lattice crusts again!

You'd think that I wouldn't want to add to any potential pie pathos but the fact remains that I am always on the lookout for new things to add to my repertoire and often something I see will spark a new interest or rekindle an old baking desire. Such was the case when I found this on a recent bookstore run:

Lots of deliciousness in here!

It's an interesting book and even though I'm not thrilled with the way the recipes are presented, I know it's going to teach me a lot. More important than that is the way it rekindled my desire to perfect my version of the Hostess fruit pie. Don't laugh. There was a time when Hostess products actually tasted good! I used to love the cherry fruit pies -- perfect size, tasty cherry filling surrounded by a tender crust that was lightly dusted with frosting. Over the last decade, though, any Hostess products I've gotten my hands on have been horrendous at best and toxic at worst. Safeway in San Fransisco and Little Debbie have close approximations to the pies I remember but they are impossible to get in NYC. Every so often a friend of ours, M., brings me a few Safeway brand pies and chuckles because she's amused that someone who bakes the way I do has such a Jones for such prefabricated, commercial pies.

After some careful thought (and some even more not-so-careful thought) it occurred to me that what I am really looking for is a bit of nostalgia in the form of a handheld cherry pie. Taste is only one component. Texture, aroma, weight - even packaging - also contribute to the experience. I know there's no way I'll ever be able to recreate all of that exactly but, as with my Nanna's egg custard pie, I can create something that will give me, and whoever eats them, some joy. 

And, yes, I'm crazy enough to try to figure out some way to approximate tearing into one of these:

Riiiiiiip!

Now that I've thrown down that gauntlet, I have to figure out how to pull it all together. That's where the aforementioned Handheld Pies has come in handy. (See what I did there?) It's gotten me to rethink the crust recipe I've used for more than twenty years, as well as how I work with filling ingredients. Over the next few posts, I'll document it all. This is going to be fun!

Another sidebar: By the way, the apple pie I made yesterday passed all the above-mentioned test with flying colors.

As perfect a pie as I've ever made!

Definitely one of the best apple pies I've made and the crust behaved exactly the way I wanted it to. I've been told that I make very "adult" apple pies, meaning they don't taste like sugar bombs. That comes from years of tweaking the filling - adding just enough sugar to enhance but not overpower the apples, picking the right apples and other ingredients, even figuring out the right size and shape to cut the apples so that they'll cook just right. It's a lesson that I've learned and refined. And I'm sure I'll refine it again and again. 

That's part of my joy of baking.

Another sidebar ends.

Currently listening to: Des'ree, Crazy Maze

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As The Pin Rolls

Last night we got a call from Connie, my step-mother-in-law. She checks up on things here from time to time and she wanted to let me know how much she's enjoying it. She's also happy that I'm enjoying using the pie bird. The real reason she called, though, was to give me some history behind the rolling pin. You know – this one:

Yes. This one.

She gave the rolling pin to Michele many years ago but she bought it for her own use, which was to make pasta for noodle soup. Her mother taught her to make pasta noodles and used a rolling pin like this because the tapered shape made it easy to make the flat rounds she needed. "My mother would roll out these giant circles of pasta and then had me help her set them up to dry on the tables and bed..." Connie told me. A regular shaped pin would have just cut the pasta dough when you tried to turn the corner to make the round.

That makes sense to me. Also, since she didn't have to worry about transferring the dough to a pie plate, she could make the rounds as thin as necessary without worrying that they'd break and become unusable. A very different technique than I need for my pie doughs. That's one reason it's taken me so long to learn how to best use this particular rolling pin.

Nothing like a little history to shed some light on the present! And nothing history to make me more determined to make some amazing dishes with this rolling pin.

Currently listening to: Nicky Romero, Like Home (Feat. Nervo) (Karetus Remix)

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