December 13, 2015December 13, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Underwater

Underwater basket-weaving: (noun)

Used as the type of college course that is thought to be without any practical or professional value.

This whirlwind of a quarter has finally drawn to a close.
My daddy told me, as I arrived home (Nati in tow) to be glad that I simply survived.
And how right he is.

(“Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim.”
—Tyler Knott Gregson)

I still need to get myself employed, but for ~~now~~ today, I’m content to have survived my craziest academic quarter yet (and hopefully ever) and be home in my wonderful house with my parents and boyfriend (and animals, of course), with my head above water and still planted firmly on my shoulders.

I have been so so so in and out with meager offerings in my posts on the blog, which is something that irritates me to no end, but which was an unfortunate consequence of working tirelessly on school.

Next quarter will be different.
Also, I have so many ideas for holiday baking and I’m just praying I have enough time to fit them all in during break.

This pie is from Thanksgiving, and it would be an utter shame if I didn’t get this post together whilst we are still in pie season.

This pie is a delicious endeavor and a total showstopper.
It features a gloriously brown and shiny, crackling crust chock full of sharp cheddar cheese and sweet cream butter.
The inside is comprised of layers upon layers of cinnamon-poached pears, soft and sweet, and tart, spiced apples, with more bite and brightness, all lacquered and laced with brown butter butterscotch, a salty, profound, caramel sauce that really takes the pie to the next level.

There are a few components, but three of them (the poached pears, the butterscotch, and the dough) can be made ahead of time and store beautifully, so that when pie day rolls around, you will be prepared and calm and ready to make the most beautiful, bad-ass pie of your life.

When making pie, my best advice is as follows:
Keep everything cool. Your flour, your butter, your fillings, your mentality.
Read the recipe very well beforehand. Make sure you have all of your ingredients on hand and prepped.
Relax! A rustic pie tastes just as good alone with a perfect lattice, and any pie is better than no pie. People will love you and you should be proud.
Pie will always make you friends.

Apple, Pear, Butterscotch, and Cheddar Pie
makes 1 large pie

ingredients:
for the poached pears:
1 lemon, zested in large strips and juiced
1 stick cinnamon
2 pounds hard pears, peeled, cored and sliced
1 cup white wine
1 1/3 cups sugar

for the pie filling:
2 lb. granny smith and golden delicious apples, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
juice of ½ lemon
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 ½ teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
pinch cloves
pinch allspice
pinch ginger
pinch coriander
¼ teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons cornstarch

for the butterscotch:
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup (about 109 grams) packed dark or light brown sugar (I used dark)
1/2 cup (118 ml) heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt, to taste
1 1/2 teaspoons (8 ml) vanilla extract

for the cheddar pie crust:
360 grams (3 cups) AP flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 teaspoon cane sugar
170 grams shredded cheddar cheese
170 grams (1 1/2 sticks) frozen butter, grated
1 1/2 teaspoon vinegar
60 to 90 grams ice water

directions:
Make the dough: whisk flour, salt, and sugar together.
Cut and mix the grated cheese and butter until the largest piece is pea-sized.
Add in the vinegar, then sprinkle on just enough ice water so that you can gather the dough into a cohesive mass.
Divide dough into two balls.
Refrigerate 1 ball.
Roll the other ball out very gently into a 12 inch round.
Lightly drape over a pie dish and crimp gently.
Refrigerate or freeze.

Poach the pears: peel, core, and slice the quinces fairly thinly.
Place lemon zest, juice, cinnamon stick, sugar, wine, and quince into a sauce pot on medium high heat.
Bring mixture to a hard simmer, then reduce heat to a bare simmer.
Simmer for 10 minutes, then place lid on pot and allow to cook for 2 hours, stirring occasionally, until the moisture has been mostly absorbed and the quince is rosy toned.
Allow to cool completely.

Make the butterscotch: brown butter in a saucepan.
Add sugar, cream, and salt and whisk to combine.
Bring to a very gently boil and cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly.
Remove from heat, stir in vanilla, and carefully taste to adjust salt and vanilla.
Allow to cool at room temperature.

To make the pie, toss thinly sliced and peeled apples with lemon juice, salt, and spices.
Whisk sugars together with cornstarch; stir into apple mixture and set aside.
Remove the top portion of the pie dough from the fridge; allow to thaw until it is workable.
Roll out to ¼ inch thickness and cut out shapes or lattices; refrigerate.
Remove bottom part of dough from freezer or fridge.
Place 1 thin layer of pears on the bottom of the pie.
Top with a layer of apple mixture and a drizzle of butterscotch.
Repeat until pie is full.
Top the pie with the lattice or decorations as desired.
Brush with egg wash or cream and sprinkle on turbinado sugar.
Bake at 425 for 10 minutes, then lower heat to 375 and bake for 45 minutes, covering crust if necessary.

September 9, 2015February 12, 2016 by Rachel Sally

Love is Real

“What is REAL?”
asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.
Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly,
except to people who don’t understand.”

—The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams

Since Life first unexpectedly sprung from unassuming, antediluvian and micellar murk on a planet wholly unrecognizable to us, so too did Death.
Organisms, animals—man and beast and plant alike—enter this realm and pass into the next.
And by the time sentience came into vogue, grief had entered the mix as well.

The unfairness of loss draws out our most innate and intimate emotions, primal keening and crying accompanied by
external, physical pain. It hurts.

To my best friend, my honey bee, keeper of my secrets and sharer of my memories—

Know that everything you feel is Real.
Love, regret, anger, and sadness all roll together to become the acutely painful sensation of grief, which is, paradoxically, the balm and toxin during heartbreaking loss.

Know, however, that your heart isn’t breaking.
It is swelling so full of love and memories that it is fit to burst; the dull ache of each thump in your chest only serves to remind you how very full it is.

No matter how deeply it feels like it is rending, it is knit together tightly by years of love.
That much, my dear, I can certainly promise you.

Fig, Rosemary, and Lemon Tart | La Pêche Fraîche

“Time, that infallible, indefatigable soldier, marches on.
I pool myself at his knees, pull at his clothes, cry, implore him for more, more, more.
I beg a retreat, a repeat– just one– beg for second chances, for one minute, one hour longer.

But he is deaf, this cruel god. There is no rewinding, no turning back.
Done is done; done is done, calls his war drum.
Onward we march. Forward we go.
…
Healing is not easy.
But you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.
One walks hand in hand with the other.
And so must we, as their waves beat down on our beaches, as they soften and change our malleable souls.
This submission is not comfortable; it is not easy.

We do not like to be changed.”

—It Gets Better, 2014

I must share this beautiful snapshot of writing:

“She was speaking last night about a litter of cats she wanted to bring home, and the look of the moonlight on a lake.
Memories from the past resurfacing.
When we are about to cross over, these thoughts are the things we take with us.”
—Philip Eastman

This stunning tart is definitely one of the most delicious and beautiful things I have made yet this summer.
Figs, to me, signal the dog days of summer: sticky, syrupy heat that produces fruit of the same temperament, as the season bleeds lazily into Autumn.

They are an unctuous, sensual fruit, and it is truly hard to beat a perfectly ripe fig.
Figs pair well, in my opinion, with savory flavors as well as bright, citrusy flavors.
This tart blends the two, with woodsy rosemary and tart lemon creating a perfectly harmonious backdrop for lots of thinly sliced, ripe figs.

For this tart, buttery crust, crisp and perfectly fluted (no shrinkage! Heh.) is hit with pine-y rosemary and molasses-y brown sugar to elevate it above a basic pâte sucrée.
The shell is filled with tart citrusy cream, rich with cream cheese, cut with a whole lemon’s worth of zest and juice.
When chilled, it sets into a sliceable form, solid enough to support any number of fresh or seasonable fruits.
I can easily imagine this tart/pie made with sautéed plums, or candied citrus, any type of berry, or many tiny apricots.
Here, I’ve chosen a bevy of super ripe, late-season juicy black mission figs, sliced thin and brushed with warm apricot jam for shine.
The effect is jaw-dropping, a spiral of late summer’s finest fruits, showcasing their orange-y pink centers—a veritable sunset of beautiful colors.

When figs pie, indeed.

Fig, Rosemary, and Lemon Tart
makes 1 8-inch tart

for the rosemary-brown sugar pastry:
180 grams (1 1/2 cups) flour
30 grams (1/4 cup) confectioner’s sugar
50 grams (1/4 cup) brown sugar
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
130 grams (1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon) butter
1 egg
Whisk together 180g (1 1/2 cups) flour, 60g (1/2 cup) confectioners sugar, 1 teaspoon dried rosemary, and 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt. Cut in 130g (1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon) butter and whisk in an egg. Press into a tart pan and freeze. Bake at 350 for 22-25 minutes, until golden brown and fragrant. Fill cooled shell with lemon cream: beat 130g (10 ounces) cream cheese with 90g (3/4 cup) confectioner’s sugar, the juice and zest of one lemon, and 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt. Top with fresh, ripe fruit!

for the lemon cream:
130 grams (10 ounces) cream cheese
90 grams (3/4 cup) confectioner’s sugar
juice and zest of 1 large lemon
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

to assemble:
8-9 ripe figs, sliced very thinly
1 tablespoon apricot jam (optional)

directions:
Grease an 8-inch tart pan and preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Make the crust: whisk together flour, confectioner’s sugar, brown sugar, rosemary, and kosher salt.
Cut in the butter and whisk in the egg.
Knead lightly until dough comes together but is still slightly crumbly.
Press into prepared pan, prick all over with a fork, and freeze for at least 30 minutes.
Weight with pie weights and parchment paper and bake for 25 minutes, until golden brown and fragrant.
Allow to cool completely.
Meanwhile, prepare the lemon cream: whip cream cheese with confectioner’s sugar for 2 minutes until fluffy.
Add in the lemon zest, juice, and salt, and whip for 3 more minutes.
Fill cooled shell and chill for 15 minutes, until partially set.
Top with sliced figs or other fruit (berries, plums, candied citrus) and a brush of heated apricot jam for shine and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes until completely set.
Serve chilled (cut with a hot, sharp knife).

July 7, 2014July 7, 2014 by Rachel Sally

How To

How to make a peach pie.

Start this pie in the middle of a hectic week, a week when nothing seems to go right, and most things seem to go to shit.
Wish for some therapy or someone who can write code, write your blog, write your to-do lists, your journal even, who can get inside your head and do some serious junk organization.

Find yourself peeking in the fridge instead. (Always.)

Start this pie with Butter.
Everything truly therapeutic starts with butter.
One big fat pound of butter. (Made from 2 and a half gallons of milk, churned and shaken and agitated into creamy gold.)
Maybe life just shakes shakes shakes the shit out of you until you’re sweet, fat butter, too.
Contemplate this thought as you slice up the cold cold butter into neat cubes. Decide you are not wholly against such a philosophy.

Butter and flour and a spoonful of sugar. Two pinches of salt. Add a few extra grains because you’ve been forgetting the salt lately.
How can you forget the salt? That most important seasoning, the holy grail of sharpening and fine-tuning sweet flavors.

Forgetting salt because salt is lost on you, as is fiery curry powder and lashings of sweet maple syrup and bright fresh basil.
Forgetting salt because you’re walking around in a foggy world.
Not being able to taste or smell anything becomes tiresome.
How can a head cold possibly last this long?
How can I possibly not taste the goodness of Nutella?
Something is seriously wrong here.

Your body needs healing, needs a full night’s rest, a cup of hot tea, and, at this point, probably a miracle from a Shaman.
But you need to stop whining about being sick.
Choose to focus on pie instead. Pie dreams.

Find yourself elbow deep in dough. Pat, fold, repeat. Marvel at the layers of butter which, when place in a hot hot hot oven will melt and evaporate, forming the flaky crusts of dreams.

Grab a whole bunch of plump peaches. Count them out onetwothree … eight nine ten.
Hold one up to your nose, so close that its soft fuzz tickles.
Breathe in the scent of summer, of warm days in the sun, of trees heavy with promises. That much you can smell.

Slice them up, neat eighths halved again, tossed in sugar and tapioca for body, a touch of nutmeg and lemon juice to coax out profundity—and salt, just a pinch or two to temper the sweetness.

Spread the peaches thin over vast expanses of dough.
Cut long strips of the remaining dough. Realize how wonky they are–this one too long, this one way too short—but carry on anyway. Decide on the spot that anyone who complains about the way this damn pie looks shan’t have any pie.
Weave a very bendy lattice, cursing the heat the whole while (who in their right mind chooses an 80+ degree day to deal with finicky pastry? Me.). Over, under, over, over… shit. Under, over…
Crimp the edges, throw it in the oven.
Get the f out of the nine million degree kitchen.

Come back only when the scent of peach and butter and caramel has filled your home, enough to penetrate even your nose’s rhinovirus ether.
Admire the pink that has bled out from the skin, turning the yellow fruit into a veritable rainbow of magenta, orange, and yellow.

Swat away hungry passerby. Promise them a slice, after photos only. Paws off.

Make the executive decision to take this pie over the top.
Whisk, whisk, whisk cream, a touch of sugar, an entire vanilla bean, and egg yolk after egg yolk together.
Cook until your pinky leaves a trail on your spatula. Test multiple times, with multiple fingers. This is important.
Chill, chill, churn—the creamiest vanilla bean ice cream emerges, yellow with yolks and flecked and fragrant with vanilla seeds.

Test it straight out of the ice cream machine, with multiple spoons.
This is also important.

This slab pie serves an army, or at least a small village.
A couple of teenage boys, a group of good friends.

Bring it to a party, and be the star.
Easy to eat because the filling to crust ratio is just right for portability, even when cut into generous sizes—no skimpy hand pies—large enough for a crowd, and delicious, which is obviously the most important part.

Or, eat it at home, on a plate, in your kitchen, with a hot cup of tea and a scoop of cold vanilla ice cream.
The simple pleasure of fresh peach pie with homemade ice cream is difficult to surpass.

It is quintessentially summer.

Peach Slab Pie
makes 1 17×12 inch pie

ingredients:
for the crust:
450 grams (1 pound) butter, cold and diced
630 grams (5 cups) flour
50 grams (1/4 cup) sugar
2 teaspoons kosher salt
ice water, as needed (at least 120 mL—1/2 cup)

for the filling:
10 large peaches
1 cup turbinado sugar
5 tablespoons quick cooking tapioca
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
juice of 1/2 small lemon (about 1 tablespoon)
nutmeg, to taste (perhaps 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon)

directions:
Make the crust: whisk flour, sugar, and salt together.
Add in the butter chunks and toss them with your hands to coat all of them in flour.
Begin to smash each chunk between your fingers, so that all of them are sheets rather than cubes.
Rub some of the mixture between your palms so that the butter breaks up into even smaller chunks and the mixture looks like coarse sand.
Leave about 1/3 of the butter in small, thin sheets; you want sizes to vary from about the size of a chickpea to sandy textured pieces.
Drizzle in ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time, as you stir with a wooden spoon.
Stop adding water when the clumps stick to your spoon; gather up all the pieces and mold them together—the dough should not be dry or crumbly.
Pat the dough out into a long, thin rectangle about 1/2 inch thick.
Fold each of the ends over the center like you’re folding a letter.
Pat out the dough again into a rectangle and repeat the folding twice more.
Divide the dough into two pieces and wrap in saran wrap; refrigerate for at least 45 minutes and up to 1 night.
Meanwhile, make the filling: slice up peaches into thin pieces—cut the peach into eighths and then cut each eighth in two or three.
Place the turbinado sugar and tapioca into a food processor and process until the tapioca has been ground down a bit.
Mix half of this with the sliced peaches and place in a colander or sieve over a bowl to drain for at least 30 minutes.
After chilling, roll out half of the dough (it will be quite thin) and fit into a greased 17×12 inch sheet pan. Leave the edges hanging over slightly; return to the fridge or, better yet, place in the freezer.
Finish the filling: remove the peaches from the colander and discard the collected juice.
Toss the peaches with the remaining sugar mixture, the salt, the nutmeg, and the lemon juice.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Roll out the other half of the dough and cut into thin strips (measure them: some should be 18 inches and some 13, to ensure they make it all the way across the pie).
Remove the bottom crust from the freezer and spread the peaches thinly over it; try to get them in an even layer.
Working quickly, weave your lattice over the peaches—I found the easiest way to do so was not by folding the strips back on themselves, as is commonly done, but actually weaving the short strips under the long strips, since they were so long.
Using a fork, crimp the edges to seal the lattice strips to the bottom crust.
Pop it in the oven (you may want to place another sheet pan underneath it to prevent drips) and bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling.
Remove from oven and let cool.

Creamiest Vanilla Bean Ice Cream
adapted from the NYT
makes a generous pint

ingredients:
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup half and half
1/4 cup low-fat milk (I had 1%; if you drink whole, use 1/2 cup and leave out the half and half)
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons corn syrup (optional, can sub honey or maple syrup if you don’t mind flavoring)
pinch kosher salt
3 egg yolks
scrapings of a vanilla bean

directions:
Whisk together all of the ingredients very well.
Place in a small sauce pot over medium heat and add the vanilla bean pod.
Whisking constantly, cook until the mixture is a bit thicker than heavy cream—a finger dragged across the back of a spatula should leave a trail.
Remove from heat, remove vanilla pod, and cool completely.
Chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour and up to 1 night well-wrapped.
Churn according to manufacturer’s instructions.

July 4, 2014July 5, 2014 by Rachel Sally

American Pie

I know that you’re in love with him
’cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes,
man I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck,
with a pink carnation and a pick-up truck,
but I knew I was out of luck
the day the music died.

Happy Fourth of July!!
AKA happy birthday America!

What do y’all think of the new blog?
It took me forever to update, and now I have a snazzy new sidebar where you can access archives, subscribe, search, and click through to important (read: pretty) posts.
Let me know if you have any problems, or if things seem glitchy.
I’ll try to get them worked out ASAP.
Note: to click through to see or make comments, click on the top of the post in the meta tag (date posted/comments) or just click on the post and scroll to the bottom.
Also note: blank spaces will soon be filled. Please ignore the giant gaping holes… I am trying to iron things out.
(I am quite bad at it.)

Y’all. There is a reason 4th of July rhymes with PIE.
(No, it’s not a coincidence. You hush.)
It is our god-given right to eat pie while celebrating the US of A.
We have lots and lots of traditional pies that originate here in America—thick shoofly, key lime, pecan, etc.
I had my heart set on a red, white, and blue pie—a true American Pie—for the 4th of July.
(Although now, I am realizing… shoofly, Ju-ly… that might have to happen too! Oh well, more pie to eat..)

American Pie. American Flag Pie.
Wild blueberries make up the upper quadrant, with dark sweet cherries comprising the rest; the entire thing is encased in and carefully decorated with flaky, buttery pastry; rich, creamy vanilla bean custard adds a touch of white!
This pie is so dang cute, and delicious to boot. That vanilla bean custard, man. I could put that on cardboard and eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I love the combination of cherry blueberry, and if you’re not looking to American-ize your pie, just chuck everything in and top it with a lattice or even a full crust.

I hope all of you have a safe, sunny, and fun Fourth of July! May you eat BBQ and patriotic desserts and break out the bathing suits and have a great time celebrating our country.
America!!

Pee Ess:
I know some of my readers like to connect with me via instagram (and Pinterest). Click on the little instagram icon in the About the Author section and it will direct you to my profile. Same for Pinterest!
(Picture below is from my instagram, taken with iPhone and edited with Afterlight.)

American Pie with Vanilla Bean Custard
makes 1 10-inch pie
ingredients:
for the crust: 2 1/2 cups flour
2 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
16 tablespoons butter, cubed and cold
ice water, as needed
for the filling:
2 1/2 cups frozen wild blueberries (or about 2 cups big fresh blueberries)
5 cups halved cherries (about 1 1/2 pounds frozen or 1 3/4 pounds fresh)
juice of 1 lemon
1 1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup cornstarch
pinch of salt
for the vanilla bean custard:
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup lowfat milk
3 egg yolks
3 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons sugar
scrapings of 1/2 a vanilla bean
directions:
Make the crust: place flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl.
Dump all the cold cubed butter into the bowl and begin to smash all of the cubes to sheets.
Rub some of the mixture between your hands so that it’s sandy—you’re going for a crumbly, sandy mixture wherein the largest pieces of butter are about the size of a marble and flattened into a sheet.
Begin to stir in the cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time; you will likely need 4-6 tablespoons, but it all depends on kitchen environment, so go slow.
You want the dough to come together into a ball but not be sticky at all.
Turn it out onto a lightly floured surface and pat it into a long rectangle about 1/2 inch thick.
Fold over the edges like you’re folding a letter, then pat the folded dough out into another rectangle; repeat twice more for a total of 3 folds.
Divide the dough in two and pat into disks; wrap each in saran wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
After 30 minutes, roll one out of the disks to a 14 inch diameter—it should be about 1/8 to 1/4 inch thick.
Fit the dough into a pie pan and loosely fold excess edges over temporarily; place in the fridge while you make the fillings.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees before making the fillings.
Place the cherries in a large bowl with the juice of half a lemon.
Place the blueberries in another bowl with a little less than the juice of half a lemon.
Stir the cornstarch, sugar, and salt together and divide it roughly into thirds: toss blueberries with 1/3 and the cherries with 2/3 of the mixture.
Roll out the other pie crust and cut into stripes and stars.
Spoon the blueberry filling into 1/4 of the pie (unfold the edges so they hang over the pan), and the cherry into the other 3/4.
Lay on the stripes and stars, then fold up the overhanging crust and crimp.
Bake for 50 minutes to an hour, until the crust is golden and the fillings are bubbling.
Meanwhile, make the custard: whisk all ingredients together and place them in a small sauce pot over medium-low heat.
Cook, stirring nearly constantly, until the mixture thickens up slightly—it should still be liquid, but when you drag your finger across the spatula, a trail should remain (like the texture of quite cold heavy cream).
Pass through a strainer and chill until ready to eat.
Serve the pie warm with cold custard sauce!

June 10, 2014June 9, 2014 by Rachel Sally

Just Pie

Just pie. Jest pie. Jess pie? Chess pie?!

The origins of the name of the (unquestionably Southern) chess pie are shrouded in mystery.

Some believe that it’s called chess pie owing to a transformation/translation of “Just Pie” by Southerners’ drawls.
“Just Pie” comes from the pie’s similarity to pecan pie, minus the pecans.
The filling is gooey, sweet, and dense, but free of distracting additions.
It’s really just pie.

Alternately, some think that the name is derived from the fact that this pie saves very well– there is no fruit to mould, or uncooked dairy or eggs to go rotten– so it could be saved for a very long time in a pie chest.
A pie chest is a piece of furniture used to store pies and other food and keep them safe from vermin (and greedy children!).
Pie in chest= chest pie = chess pie.

I guess we’ll never know the true beginnings of the name, but honestly, who cares?! It’s pie.
It’s goooood pie.

There is something so nostalgic and sweet about Southern desserts.
I thought I’d share a few recent ones from other blogs to get you inspired.
I know I’m crazy inspired and impressed by all these other talented bloggers.

Joy’s Bourbon Pecan Pie with Dark Chocolate blew my socks right off.
It reminds me of my pie that I deemed “the best ever.”
(Which, for the record, is still a stance that I am adamant about. Go make it. NOW.)

Beth’s amazing Beet and Goat Cheese Red Velvet cake for Valentine’s day is, without question, the most beautiful bundt/tube cake I have ever laid eyes on/drooled over.
I am continually awed by Beth.
She and her photographs make me want to pack up, move to Tennessee, and start wearing raw denim and drying herbs.
A true marvel of talent, this lady. Honest and truly.

Speaking of red velvet, did you see this article?
It caught my attention in the Dining section of the NYT and hooked me.
It’s always intriguing to know the origins of your food (chess pie, I’m lookin’ atchu.)

Less on the sweet side, but just as delicious and homey: Tim’s dense Cornbread from Josey Baker Bread is being bookmarked for next Thanksgiving.
And by next Thanksgiving, I mean next week.
Or whenever I can get my grubby paws on some kamut flour.

Laura’s Lattice Top Strawberry Pie… No. Words.
Those photos! Simply breathtaking. This is by far the most beautiful post I’ve seen in a long time.
I’m so glad she’s back from her short reprieve! Fabulous, fabulous work.

And how about Cindy’s Triple Chocolate Buttermilk Bread?!
Anything with buttermilk immediately connotes comfort cooking (read: Southern cooking) to me.
Buttermilk + butter + chocolate + chocolate + chocolate= comfort. It’s a tried and true combo.
So dark and dreamy.

IMG_9635_01

This chess pie starts out with a perfect, flaky flaky all-butter crust.
I like to make my pie crusts by hand, smashing each little frozen butter cube into a sheet, rubbing the flour and sugar between my palms, getting a feel for the dough and all.
It’s folded a few times, rolled out thin, crimped and docked and weighted down, baked for a few minutes just until golden, then filled to the brim with custard.

The coconut custard (chess) filling is based on cream of coconut– you know, the thick, sugary glop they put in piña coladas?
I accidentally purchased some (ah, the perils of breezing over labels) and discovered that it is akin to sweetened condensed milk: thick, creamy, sweet.
I had a few tablespoons of desiccated coconut left in my pantry, and a cup or so of buttermilk.

Thus, this too-sweet cream of coconut mistake was elevated with brown sugar, cornmeal, buttermilk, coconut shreds, butter and coconut oil, and plenty of eggs.

The resultant pie is creamy and sweet, with the perfect amount of egginess and coconut flavor.
The smooth custard is a good foil for the buttery crust, and when topped with powdered sugar and extra toasted coconut, it’s a real treat. You don’t need much else.
I suppose you could add a dollop of whipped cream, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and no one would object.
But this pie is a-ok with being eaten on its own.

Just pie is just fine.

IMG_9676_02

Also, pie, previously:
(Pie highlights? Pie-lights?)

This kickass-crazy-mumba-wumba-hubba-hubba-gimme-more-still-the-best-pie-I’ve-ever-made Pumpkin Spice Brown Butter Chocolate Pecan Pie.
MAKE THIS PIE. It is all the good things, mushed into one.

This lime and honey apple pie with the cutest little crust decorations!

This arguably perfect but prissy peach pie, adapted from the arguably perfect but prissy Cook’s Illustrated.
SUMMER. I’M COMING.

This healthy, homemade coconut-key lime pie which I almost lost a finger for.
The things we do for pie.

And there are others too, but they are deep in the archives and I don’t want to scare you off with bad photography.

Expect more pie this summer. I am declaring this summer the summer of pie.
(…and ice cream, and tarts, and donuts, and pastry, and semifreddo, and cake…)

Coconut Buttermilk Chess Pie

filling heavily adapted from Food & Wine
makes 1 9-inch pie

ingredients:
for the crust:
140 grams (10 tablespoons) butter, diced and very cold
210 grams (1 3/4 cups plus 1 tablespoon) flour
1 spoonful (approximately 1 tablespoon) sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
55 grams (3 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons) ice water, or as needed

for the filling:
120 grams (1/2 cup) cream of coconut
100 grams (1/2 cup) granulated sugar
100 grams (1/2 cup) brown sugar
heaping 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
3 eggs
2 egg yolks
30 grams (2 tablespoons) coconut oil
85 grams (6 tablespoons) butter
2 tablespoons desiccated coconut
1 tablespoon cornmeal
scant cup (approximately 225 mL, or 7/8 cup) buttermilk, well-shaken

directions:
Make the crust: whisk flour, sugar, and salt together in a large bowl.
Dump all of the butter chunks into the flour mixture and toss to coat.
Gently smash and rub the butter into the flour until all chunks are either flattened or the consistency of cornmeal; you want a variety of shapes, the largest being somewhere near pea sized.
Pour in the water and gently stir until dough comes together; add up to another tablespoon of water if need be.
Form the dough into a small rectangle and fold into rough thirds.
Pat the dough into another rough rectangle and fold into thirds again.
Repeat, patting into a rectangle and folding, then pat the dough into a disk.
Wrap in saran wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 days.
Remove dough from fridge and roll out to 1/4 inch thickness; place into 9-inch pie pan and fold the excess edges over and crimp as desired.
Dock all over with a fork and line with aluminum foil.
Freeze for at least an hour and up to 10 days very well wrapped in foil and plastic wrap.
Preheat oven to 350.
Fill foil-lined pie shell with pie weights or dried beans.
Bake for 25 minutes, until lightly golden and set, then remove pie weights, dock in a few more places, and bake for 15 more minutes, until golden.
Meanwhile, make filling: whisk cream of coconut, sugars, salt, eggs, and egg yolks together very well.
Melt the butter and coconut oil together and quickly whisk into egg mixture.
Whisk coconut and cornmeal into the mix, then whisk in the buttermilk.
Pour filling into hot crust and place back in oven.
Bake for 40-50 minutes, until center only slightly jiggles when shaken.
Allow to cool, then freeze for at least 2 hours and up to 8 hours.
Allow to come back to room temperature before serving; dust with powdered sugar and serve with toasted unsweetened coconut, if desired.

November 11, 2013November 12, 2013 by Rachel Sally

Superstar

Who wants to be a ~~millionaire~~ Thanksgiving superstar?

IMG_5158_01

Cause, like, this pie, yo.

~~GodDAMN.~~

Good gracious gravy!

Sorry. I got excited.

This pie… There’s just so much good stuff going on! Yummy, delicious stuff.

First, let’s talk crust. I know. It’s the scariest part for most people. But crust is your friend!

Buttery, flaky, tender crust. How could it NOT be your friend?

The trick to a good pie crust is not a food processor, I’ve decided.

YesokokIknow, the food processor revolutionized pie crust because it shaved 5 minutes off the preparation time and allowed people to keep their hands clean.
Newsflash: you’re cooking and baking, your hands are going to get dirty sometime. Pie crust is a good excuse to play around in flour and butter.
(BUTTER. Not shortening. As you can see in this pie, I’ve swapped my usual buttermilk for water to give a more sturdy crust, since it’s a custard pie that will not have par-baking. That said, I could have swapped butter for shortening. But why, oh why, would I want to sacrifice that flavor? Oh, right. I wouldn’t. And neither would you. I won’t have it any other way.)

By making your pie crust by hand, you get a good feel for the texture. In a food processor, an extra 3 pulses gives you a gummy crust that will be tough and shrink during baking. (Insert sad face here.)

Let’s take this chance to play with our food, no? It’ll be fun.

Dump your flour, salt, and a pinch of sugar into a big bowl.
Cube your butter into little chunky chunks, then throw it back in the fridge for 5 minutes to re-chill.
Meanwhile, fill a small bowl with cold water, and chuck 2 ice cubes in it. Keep a tablespoon near the ice water.
Stir the flour n’ stuff around with your hands.
Take your butter chunks and place them all in the flour, all snuggly and nested down in there.
Now, with your fingers and palms, start to smash the cubes into flat sheets. Rub about half between your hands to create a coarse meal. The others, leave as small, flattened chunks, the size of peas.
You should have a rough mish-mash of butter and flour and butter-flour meal.
Here comes the fun: dunk the tablespoon measure in the ice water and put 2 measures into your butter/flour.
Using your hands, gently stir the mixture together. Some will stick to your hands. Just scrape it off and put it back in the mix.
If there are still a lot of dry chunks at the bottom of your bowl, add up to 2 more tablespoons of water, but go slow.
When your crust is done, it will hold together and all of the flour will be hydrated, but it won’t be very sticky or gooey. It should be smooth.
Give it a couple kneads, a little massage, and wrap it up nice and snug in some plastic wrap.
Back in the fridge she goes!

To roll the crust out, liberally sprinkle a clean countertop with flour, then place your crust in the middle.
Sprinkle the top with flour, and gently, starting from the middle, roll towards the edges, creating a rough circle shape.
Once it’s 3 inches larger in all directions than the bottom of your pie dish, roll it up on your rolling pin (like a roll of paper towels) and place it in the dish. Crimp the edges by rolling the excess up underneath, then pinching to create pretty little ruffles.
Back to the fridge! Keep it COLD, y’all!

So you’ve got your awesome all-butter pie crust made and ready and chilling.

Let’s fill it with heavenly goodies.

Start with brown sugar and a friendly pinch of salt, and add ~~the ambrosia of the gods~~ nutty brown butter.

Whisk whisk whisk in warm, autumnal spices and six (6!) egg yolks to ensure a silky, custard-like texture.

Stir in 70% bittersweet chocolate, melted and luxurious.

Finish with a sprinkling of pecans and turbinado sugar.

You’ll smell this pie long before it emerges from the oven. It’s fragrant with the best things in life: butter, spices, and chocolate.
Once it’s partially cooled, you’ll stick it in the freezer and it will thicken into a custard-y pie, the smooth and gooey chocolate interrupted only by crisp pecans.

Serve this pie sprinkled with a touch of powdered sugar, and unsweetened whipped cream or barely sweetened vanilla ice cream.

I might have to make this again for Thanksgiving.

It is among the 3 best pies I’ve ever made.

It is that good, people.

tl;dr: MAKE THIS.

P.S. I posted this on 11/11 at 11:11. My wish is for you to make this (JK! Then it wouldn’t come true!!)

Pumpkin Spice Brown Butter Chocolate Pecan Pie

ingredients:
for the crust:
165 grams (1 1/2 cups)flour
8 grams (2 teaspoons) sugar
pinch salt
113 grams (8 tablespoons) butter, cut into small pieces and cold
45 grams (3 tablespoons ice water, or as needed)

for the filling:
140 grams (scant cup) bittersweet chocolate chunks or chips
220 grams (1 cup plus 2 scant tablespoons) sugar
150 grams (1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons) brown sugar
17 grams (2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons) nonfat dry milk powder
1 1/2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice, or a big pinch each cloves, nutmeg, and star anise, plus 2 pinches each cinnamon and ginger
big pinch kosher salt
180 grams (13 tablespoons) butter, browned
120 grams (1/2 cup) milk
6 egg yolks
approximately 300 grams (2 1/2 cups) pecan halves, the pretty ones saved for garnish and the rest chopped roughly
turbinado sugar, for sprinkling, if desired

directions:
Make the crust: stir the flour, sugar, and salt together in a large bowl.
Add the butter cubes in and cut them in with a pastry blender or your fingers, flattening some and rubbing others into the flour.
Leave pieces the size of peas; the rest should resemble a coarse meal.
Stir in the water, starting with 2 tablespoons, until the dough comes together; it shouldn’t be sticky or crumbly, but just barely hold together.
Knead gently 3 or 4 times, then pat into a disk and refrigerate.
Meanwhile, make the filling: begin by melting the chocolate, gently; do this in a microwave on partial power or over a double boiler.
When the chocolate is 2/3 melted, remove from heat and stir until all melted; set aside to cool slightly.
Whisk the sugar, brown sugar, milk powder, spices, and salt together until no little lumps remain.
Whisk the brown butter in vigorously. Whisk the yolks and milk together, then vigorously whisk them into the butter/sugar mixture.
Finally, whisk in the melted and cooled chocolate and stir in the chopped pecans.
Set aside to thicken and rest while you finish the crust.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Roll the crust out, gently, to a 1/8 inch thickness.
Place it in a 9-inch pie pan that is about 2 inches in depth.
Flute or crimp the edges as desired, then place in the freezer until it is hardened, about 10 minutes.
Pour filling into the crust and decorate with the reserved pecan halves.
Top with a little turbinado sugar, then place on a cookie sheet in the oven.
Bake for 40 minutes, until top is shiny and filling is set; you may need to cover the top with aluminum foil to prevent the pecans from burning (mine got a little toasty…).
Remove from oven and allow to cool almost completely, then finish the chilling in the freezer to make the filling extra dense.
Enjoy with unsweetened whipped cream and a little powdered sugar!

October 19, 2013 by Rachel Sally

It’s Not Delivery

It’s Delgiorno!

That was an uncharacteristically long break from posting, y’all.

Sorry. I brought pie. (This is becoming a pattern… Remember when and why I made this peach pie?)

This past week was craziness. I slept very little, was very sick (I sounded like I had whooping cough…), had a midterm and a paper and not enough time or attention to sit and write a post.

I had time to bake, of course.

Yet again proving that it is words that elude me, not recipes or ideas.

In other news:

I got a new mug (from Turtle Island Pottery, back home in Ithaca), which makes me miss my hometown dearly

I got new glasses from Warby Parker, which make me feel like a hipster

I woke up at 12 today

I received my first place plaque from that marathon that I ran that one time

I’ve rediscovered that I still have a problem with biting my lips when I’m stressed- anyone else have this?

Last night, I put my toothpaste on my toothbrush in the dark and got shaving cream all over my toothbrush. I don’t know what’s worse- that it happened, or that I still brushed my teeth with it. Shaving cream. I brushed my teeth with shaving cream.

This list is nonsensical idk I’m sew tiyad.
Also I’m just realizing that I also made a list in that last post about pie… It probably made just as little sense. Oh well.

I’ve had the idea of decorating a pie with little cutout pie pieces instead of a lattice or top crust for a while, ever since seeing pretty maple leaves and polka dots topping pies. When I got around to cutting out the little DGHs, though, I realized that it wasn’t feasible, because my letter cookie cutters are REALLY small. So I changed angles and instead decorated the lattice with letters.

Why DGH? Many of my friends who saw a picture of this pie on instagram thought it was a sorority (it’s not)… In reality, it’s the abbreviation (abbrev) for my house, Delgiorno.

Housing at uChic is broken up as such: we all live in residence halls (like dorms), and each of these is broken up into houses, which are like little communities. Each house has a lounge and a kitchen, and we have house activities and competitions.
It’s really great; it made the transition to college much easier to have moved directly into a community.

Anyways, in a spurt of house pride, I made this pie.
It makes sense, actually, because the apples for it came from a house trip to go apple picking (which I missed due to a yoga workshop); my roomie brought me back tons of great apples!

In return, I promised her a slice of this apple-honey-lime pie.

While it is a twist on a classic, it doesn’t deviate too much- the main swap is lime juice where you’d usually see lemon, and the main addition is a few tablespoons of honey into the spice and brown-sugar spiked apple marinade, if you will.

Top it off with flaky, crisp, and sugar-strewn pastry, and you done got yourself a right nice pie.

Lime and Honey Apple Pie

ingredients:

1 recipe of flaky buttermilk pastry (enough for a double or lattice crust) (recipe here)
2 pounds fresh apples, peeled, cored, and sliced thinly
2 tablespoons honey
juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch each cloves, nutmeg, anise, ginger, etc. (sub pumpkin pie spice blend)
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2 tablespoons brown sugar (adjust according to the ripeness and sweetness of your apples)
1/4 cup flour
big pinch sea salt
1 egg beaten with 2 teaspoons water
Sugar for sprinkling, if desired

directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Roll out the bottom crust and place in pan.
Toss thinly sliced apples with lime juice right after slicing.
Add spices, sugars, honey, and salt to the apples.
Allow to sit for 10 minutes, then drain off the excess liquid.
Meanwhile, roll out your top crust and prepare it either for a lattice or full top crust.
Place your (drained) apples in the bottom crust and top with the top crust (here’s a tutorial for lattice).
Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.
Bake for 15 minutes at 400 degrees F, or until the top has a dark golden color, then place aluminum foil over the pie and reduce the oven temperature to 350.
Bake until your home smells like heaven and the juices are burbling and thickened, about 1 hour.

August 12, 2013September 13, 2013 by Rachel Sally

Peachy Keen

Okay, I left you again, my beloveds. But I am back, and I am not leaving in the foreseeable future (until college. Eep!!)

(And I brought pie!)

I was in NYC and also Connecticut at the ESPN campus (so cool!), tagging along with my dad for the last half-week.
Then, I was enjoying a beautiful, sunny day and evening with friends at Taughannock.

Now, I am here.

Home. And back on le blog.

^The always beautiful S and the charming français, Emile.

(That last link is scary… two birthdays ago! Laughing/cringing at the photography. Don’t laugh at me.

On second thought, don’t click through that link.)

Um, with lack of anything more interesting to say about my trip, here are some things I observed, because I love lists:

Things I Saw in Park Slope and Beyond:

a discarded and seemingly brand new cherry wood spoon

a dozen oyster shells, mixed with

broken ceramics of many colors

an unattended child, sitting quietly in a stroller

thirty thousand vespas

a stroller with 12 wheels (12!)

a sizeable bamboo grove on West 14th, with canes that were 20 or so feet tall

killer fro-yo at Culture (two words: mochi topping)

and a million and one other things but I’m tired of this list so let’s move on.

Highlight of my day: I discovered that two of my photos got published on Tastespotting!

I am very pleased.

However, these exact same photos were rejected on foodgawker.

I am not pleased.

“Composition too tight. Please make more room around the ____ and resubmit.”

If I had more room, don’t you think I would have already tried to cram it into that tiny little square?

Wah.

Okay I’m tired of whining so let’s move on.

(Wait… that’s a first. Tired of whining? Me? NEVER. Can’t stop won’t stop.)

These photos being published on Tastespotting have only aided in my ever-expanding online sharing of photos.

I now have a flickr, facebook, twitter, instagram, blog, and Tastespotting account, through all of which I share photos of food. (I rarely put food photos on twitter or facebook, though.)

And I guess I have a foodgawker, but EVERY PHOTO I have ever submitted gets instantly rejected.

Like this.

My instagram is all food and cats and up-close selfies of my face.

Stop judging me.

Let’s talk about pie.

Pie, pie, pie pie.

Pie pie pie.

Peach pie. Om nom nommedy nom.

We’ve talked about peach pie once before.

As well as peach pie cake

and two peach tarts.

But when I discovered 7 very ripe-borderline too ripe-peaches in the back of my fridge today, I knew the universe was telling me something important.

And it involved pie, so.

See, the most recent Cook’s Illustrated (I have a love/hate/love relationship with this mag, but let’s not get into that) featured their most recent recipe for peach pie.

Obviously, I had to make it/test it for myself.

Fussy magazine instructions be damned.

So let’s talk about this pie.

It ain’t easy, that’s for damn sure. But then again, of course it’s not.

It’s Cook’s Illustrated, for God’s sake, and they can never let anything be easy.

There’s always ten million steps and I usually find there are ways to improve upon what they have given, despite all of their in-depth testing in their test kitchen.

(This may a poorly timed question… but that job sounds awesome. Where do I apply?)

Thus, another list: Things I Wish I Didn’t Have to Do to Make This Pie:
peel the peaches (Said it before, and I’ll say it again: I never peel peaches for pie. I love that fuzzy skin, and I totally approve of this message what it does texture-wise when cooked)
use 3 pounds of peaches (this just seems excessive because you have to peel each one like WHAT)
quarter and then thirds all the peaches (there has to be a more efficient way to do this. Peeled peaches are so very slippery and go shooting off the cutting board like soap)
macerate the peaches (I thought we wanted the juice to stay in)
cook down the resulting juice with pectin (thank God we canned the other weekend… or I would have been out of luck)
mash some of my macerated peaches that I worked SO HARD cutting up (not that hard, but whatever I’m trying to make this list long and dramatic)
use cornstarch (jk I love cornstarch)
ok I’m done

Plus, they gave me some lame-ass pie crust with shortening, giving an excuse about lattice pie crusts needing to hold up or something along those lines. I’m not sure ’cause I stopped reading when I saw Crisco.
I don’t know about you but I am really not down with shortening in pie crusts, but you probably know that because one of my earliest posts was dedicated just to all-butter all-good pastry doughs.
The low down: you can make flaky, flavorful, workable, pliable, tender pie crusts with just butter. You just gotta have the right technique.
And I’m going to share my super-secret method for getting flaky, flaky, flaky pastry.
(Scroll down through the recipe and you’ll see it, as well as a poorly-lit shot meant to demonstrate how flaky the crust is.)

So to wrap this up: their pie filling was good. The texture was perfect, the flavor was too lemony and too sweet for my palette.
I generally use next to no sugar in my pies, but since I was trying to review the recipe, I made no changes to the filling and how it was prepared.
I used my own crust recipe, which has taken a lifetime to develop (practically), because I will always stay loyal to butter and buttermilk.

This was a fussy recipe. But altogether, I would recommend it.
I think I have to say that, because I had two fat wedges of this pie today.
Om nom nommedy nom.

^I ate that piece. Without a fork.

Cook’s Illustrated Peach Pie (with my flaky buttermilk pie crust)

for the buttermilk crust:

makes enough for a double or lattice crust

ingredients:

2 1/2 cups flour (315 grams)

1 tablespoon (15 grams) sugar

1 heaping teaspoon kosher salt

16 tablespoons (225 grams) unsalted butter, cold and cut into chunks

1/2 cup to 3/4 cup buttermilk, cold (leave it in the fridge until just before you need to use it)

directions:

Place the flour, sugar, and salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. (Or whisk them together in a large bowl)

Scatter the butter pieces over the flour mixture and pulse until the mixture has small chunks of butter the size of peas, about 5 2-second pulses or so. (Or cut the butter into the flour with a pastry blender.)

Slowly drizzle 1/2 cup of buttermilk into the mixer while giving 1 second pulses. (Or drizzle it over the butter/flour mixture and fold with a spatula)

Feel the dough- when you’ve added adequate liquid, it should be slightly tacky and hold together.

Add up to 1/4 cup more buttermilk if necessary.

Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and roll it into a rectangle about 1/2 inch thick.

Fold the rectangle into thirds and reroll into another rectangle.

Fold the new rectangle into thirds and reroll into another rectangle.

Fold the rectangle once more into thirds and then roll it into a rough rectangle.

Cut the block into two pieces, one slightly smaller than the other.

Chill for at least 30 minutes, wrapped well in plastic.

When you are ready to use the dough, roll the larger piece out until its diameter is about 4 inches larger than your pie pan, then gently place it in the pan, allowing the excess to drape off the edges.

Roll out the other chunk of dough into a rectangle and cut it into long strips.

Chill the strips and the dough in the pan before filling (roll them out before you start the filling).

Once filled, weave the strips into a lattice over the filling. (here is a picture tutorial)

for Cook’s Illustrated Peach Pie Filling:

ingredients:

3 pounds peaches, peeled, quartered, and pitted, each quarter cut into thirds

1/2 cup (3.5 ounces) plus 2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon lemon zest plus 1 tablespoon lemon juice

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons low- or no-sugar-needed fruit pectin

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

pinch nutmeg

1 tablespoon cornstarch

directions:

Toss peaches, 1/2 cup sugar, lemon zest and juice and salt in a bowl; allow to sit for at least 30 minutes and up to an hour.

Combine pectin, 2 tablespoons sugar, and spices in a small bowl.

Transfer 1 cup of peach mixture to a bowl and mash into a coarse paste.

Drain the remaining peaches and measure out 1/2 cup of the liquid; discard the rest.

Place the juice into a pan with the pectin mixture and cook over medium heat until thickened and pectin has dissolved (3-5 minutes).

Toss the remaining peaches with the cornstarch, then add in the peach paste and the peach juice.

to assemble and bake the pie:

ingredients:

cream

turbinado or coarse sugar, or regular sugar

directions:

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Remove the chilled bottom crust from the fridge and pour the filling into it.

Weave the chilled lattice strips over top of the filling.

Brush cream gently over the pie top and sprinkle liberally with coarse sugar.

Bake for 20 minutes at 425, then lower the temperature to 350 and bake 35-40 minute more, until the top is deeply golden brown and the filling is bubbling in the center.

August 7, 2013September 13, 2013 by Rachel Sally

Dirrrty

Ahh… Sorry to burst your bubble, but this post is not about Xtina.

I know. I’m sad about it too.

Let’s talk about my OCD.

Because everybody loves a crazy person, right?

Today, I cleaned my entire KitchenAid with a toothpick.

Cleaned as in burrowed into every nook and cranny and crevice to pry out any old cookie dough, flour, and other nasty residue.

It was the single most horrifying and awesome thing ever.

Do you clean your appliances often?

Let me tell you right now, it’s probably not often enough.

I’m scarred after today.

I mean, sheesh, I go at my stand mixer every so often, when the spirit so moves me, with a toothpick and a warm, wet paper towel, but not to the extent that I dug today.

How does all that even get all up in there?
All up in there in the weirdest places.

Have you ever unscrewed the little button thing where the meat grinder attaches to your stand mixer?

DON’T DO IT. JUST LEAVE IT.
TRUST ME.

Okay, new subject, same topic.

You know what my favorite commercials are?

Cleaning product commercials.

Ranging from face wash to shower cleaners.

I just love the feeling I get from watching dirty things become magically clean.

I get all of the satisfaction, and don’t have to get my hands dirty.

It’s like a wonderful dream.

Glad we talked about this. I’m done rambling now.

This turned out to be a lot more about dirt than I meant it to be.

See, I was more thinking mud.

Because that’s what I’m sharing today.

Mud pie.

Mississippi Mud Pie, to be exact.

Only, this isn’t any ol’ Mississippi mud pie. It’s MY Mississippi mud pie, redesigned and shined up a little bit by my imagination.

Traditional mud pie is comprised of a chocolate cookie crust and a chocolate pudding filling, topped with marshmallows and/or whipped cream.

(No, no, I know. Quit your whining. We all made gross-ass mud pies in puddles after the rain- those are not what I’m preaching about up in here. You want that, you can walk yoself out of this fine establishment.)

I took it to another gut-busting, button-bursting, chocolatized level.

Because yes.

(Chocolatize me Cap’n! Yes, Chocolate Cap’n Crunch is a thing. I know.)

I was inspired in part by the Baked guys, because I saw a snapshot of their Mississippi Mud Pie and decided to make it my way.
Then, Russell of Chasing Delicious made this amazing Mississippi Mud Cake, and I decided it was high time to get back on the chocolate wagon.
It had been so long. Summer just doesn’t always seem to be compatible with chocolate, which melts and makes a mess. I usually stick to fruit.
But here we are, with a giant chocolate pie to talk about.
I’ll talk you through the layers- it’s not as hard as it seems, I promise.
Come your next chocolate craving, make this. It will satisfy every bone and tooth in your body.

First up: chocolate cookie crust.
I used Oreos, because for some reason all the regular chocolate cookies were out of stock in all of the grocery stores near me. Whatever.
Smash up some cookies, add a little seasoning (sugar+salt) and bind the whole thing with a stick o’ butta. Yum.
Next: my favorite brownies.
These are a one-pot, one-spoon, super simple affair.
They come together in 5 minutes and bake in 15.
They’re fudgy and perfect to line the base of the crust.
Simply cut off the top of the brownie base and lay it right in your crust.
Third: milk chocolate mousse.
This stuff has two major steps, but neither is difficult.
You come away with the smoothest, fluffiest mousse, one that is very light on the tongue but is completely sliceable.
This would usually be a pudding, but I wanted something a little more sophisticated than chocolate puddin’.
A mousse is perfect for this type of molded dessert!
Spread it over the cut side of the brownies and chill until it’s completely set.
Next: salted chocolate ganache.
Rich, dark, and so, so deeply chocolaty. Need I say more?
Finally: Italian meringue.
These marshmallow-y clouds on the top of the cake are the perfect foil for all the chocolate they’re sitting on. Traditionally, these would be marshmallows or whipped cream, but I prefer the lightness and softness of meringue.

One slice of this will do in your chocolate cravings in just the right way.
Mississippi Mud Pie just done grew up.

Mississippi Mud Pie

Assemble everything in the order shown here: crust, brownies, mousse, ganache, meringue.

Chocolate Cookie Crust:

ingredients:

2 1/2 cups chocolate cookie crumbs (I used about 40 Oreos, after I had scraped the cream filling out)

2 tablespoons sugar

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

8 tablespoons butter, melted

directions:

Mix the cookie crumbs with the sugar and salt, then gently stir in the butter.

Press into a 9-inch springform pan and chill until solid, then begin layering.

Classic Brownies

same recipe as here

ingredients:

8 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons shortening

5 ounces bittersweet chocolate

9 tablespoons cocoa powder

1 1/4 cups sugar

3 eggs

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 cup flour

directions:

In a heavy pot, melt butter, shortening, chocolate, and cocoa powder together.

Once they are all melted, add the sugar and remove from the heat.

Whisk in the eggs vigorously one by one.

Add in the salt and vanilla and whisk.

Finally, stir in the flour.

Spread the batter in a greased and floured 9-inch cake pan and bake for 20 or so minutes, until a tester comes out clean.

To use in the cake, allow to cool completely, then cut off the shiny, crackly top along with about 4 mm of brownie.

Gently place in the bottom of the chilled crust, cut side up.

Milk Chocolate Mousse

adapted from Cannelle et Vanille

ingredients:

For the pâte à bombé:

56 grams sugar

14 grams corn syrup

28 grams water

1 medium egg yolk plus 1 large egg yolk or 1.5 large or extra large egg yolks

For the mousse:

56 grams (2 ounces) pâte à bombé

4 grams gelatin

84 grams (3 ounces) milk chocolate

8 ounces (1 cup, 235 mL) heavy cream

directions:

Make the pâte à bombé: place the egg yolks in the bowl of a stand mixer.

Begin to whip them on high while you combine the sugar, corn syrup, and water in a small pot and heat to 240 degrees F.

Once the syrup comes to temp, slowly drizzle it over the whipped egg yolks while the mixer is running.

Allow the yolks to whip until they cool to body temp.

Weigh out 56 grams (2 ounces) and set aside.

Melt the chocolate gently, then set aside to cool slightly.

Sprinkle the gelatin over 2 tablespoons of cold water and set aside for 5 minutes to soften.

Set aside 1/4 cup of the heavy cream and whip the other cream to stiff peaks.

Once the gelatin is softened, microwave it with the 1/4 cup cream until melted. Gently stir into the cream; the mixture will become loose.

Stir in the pâte à bombé and the cooled melted chocolate, and gently mix until homogeneous.

Mixture will be loose.

Pour over the brownie in the crust and refrigerate until set.

Salted Chocolate Ganache

ingredients:

230 grams bittersweet chocolate

130 grams heavy cream

40 grams corn syrup

Small pinch kosher salt

directions:

Heat the chocolate until half melted in a microwave or over a double boiler.

Add the cream, syrup, and salt and heat until the chocolate is 2/3 melted, about 20 more seconds on medium power in a microwave.

Stir gently, increasing speed, until the mixture is shiny and homogeneous.

Use right away- spread over the chilled and firm mousse.

Small-Batch Italian Meringue

ingredients:

38 grams egg whites

Pinch cream of tartar

75 grams sugar

25 grams water

Directions:

Place egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer with the cream of tartar.

Combine the water and sugar in a small pot and bring to a boil.

Meanwhile, whip the egg whites.

When the syrup reaches 245 degrees F, the egg whites should be at soft to stiff peaks.

Slowly pour the hot syrup over the meringue with the mixer running.

Allow to whip until completely cool, then pipe onto the cake.