Baking isn’t exactly my personal recourse for existential destitution, and neither should blogging be, but, well, if ever there was a platform for public self-expression, then maybe this would be it. That said, my friend Jason is coming to visit me in March, and he asked me the other day what my favorite things to do in DC are and how many days do I think are good for getting a feel for the city. I totally drew a blank. Partial words and blurry things flickered through my head, but I, after living here for more than a year, was completely dumbfounded. “Quick, quick! Better find something I love about this place! Joey, what the hell do I love about DC?”
And now, in a really artistic and seamless segue, I will link in to my recipe for the best ginger cookies ever — it uses three different kinds of ginger — and at the end of it all, I’ll affirm how much I like DC and I’ll figure out how to make Jason like DC too. See? Seamless and artistic. Abby says that maybe part of why we’re still here is because DC is so alienating and weird, and she’s probably right that in a lot of ways, the sense of belonging is part of what propelled us from California in the first place. So maybe these moments of panic are just DC’s way of reminding me to eke out my happiness in a way that is challenging and satisfying — like through cookies. Recipe after the jump!
During my trip to North Carolina last week, someone in the family casually mentioned that “everyone has a go-to recipe.” My anxious, anal-retentive brain immediately searched the archives to discover what my go-to recipe might be, but I came up blank until I realized I was staring the answer right in its lemony face.
Billowy, marshmallowy toppping
Lemon meringue pie is the first pie that I ever baked from scratch since it has always been the most-demanded pie at all of our family functions—this pie is probably more often at my parents’ dinner table than I am. This Thanksgiving, my mom shuffled (grudgingly) down the stairs at 7:00 a.m. to double check “one last thing” for me as I prepared the meringue, and she couldn’t help but protest that she was mad not to be getting a lemon meringue pie in San Diego that day. And now, everyone might be a little screwed since my sister didn’t get one in Pittsburgh, and the pie was the easy favorite at my new other family’s Thanksgiving, but they might not get one next year. The good news for me (and soon to be you) though, is that having this pie recipe up my sleeve means I have a portable tradition—no matter where I am for what holiday, this pie always represents good food and good family.
Sometimes I’m unsure of whether I dislike DC or whether I love it, or maybe it’s my routine that bums me out, or being far away from my family (and Mexican food) that gets me down, but no matter what, autumn has provoked significant moments of emotional flux for me. Talks of moving to Pittsburgh to make my future grow some chest hair (or wings, or whatever) coupled with the oft mind-melting experiences of a working lady who misses art and, well, a sister can get to feelin’ pretty low.
And not to insist that edible fruit is the panacea I have suggested it is before, but, BUT! apple-picking did help my blues. Granted, it reenergized my persistent desire start a business and dig my heels into some dirt, but it also helped me focus on this zen thing I have been trying. This thing where I try to concentrate only on the present moment, such as that during which I eat a proper pie. Truly, this cheddar-encrusted apple pie will kick the self-sorry blahs right out of you, at least for the few minutes it takes you to eat a slice. Nothing says “focus on the present” quite like a farm-to-belly baked good.
Apple Pie with Cheddar Crust Cobbled together from an assortment of many recipes available online
Crust
2½ cups all-purpose, unbleached flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 pound extra-sharp cheddar, preferably white, shredded (comes out to about 2½ cups)
1 stick very cold butter, cut into small cubes
1/4 cup very cold, non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening, cut into small pieces (we used Spectrum brand)
6 to 8 tablespoons ice water
1 tablespoon milk, for brushing top crust
Fillin'
7 medium-sized apples (we used a combination of braeburn and suncrisp), peeled and cored, cut into quarter-inch slices
2/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoon flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1. Make le crust by adding all the dry ingredients together and cutting the fat in with your fingers or a set of knives or a pastry blender. Keep doing that until it's coarse with clumps, add the cold water one or two tablespoons at a time until the dough comes together, press it into flat discs, refrigerate for an hour.
2. Preheat the oven the 450, heat up a cookie sheet lined with foil in there while you're preparing the pie. Put the apple slices in a bowl (keep them from getting yellow beforehand by soaking in ice water), and add all of those ingredients, save for the butter. Mix. Roll out yer bottom pie crust (you might want to use a deep-dish tin if you have one), put it in there, add the apples and make a big dome, slice up the remaining tablespoon of butter and put that on top, roll out the top crust and lay it over, tuck the edges, crimp 'em, cut steam vents in the top, brush some milk on, throw it in the oven on the cookie sheet.
3. Cook for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 and cook for another 40. Check on the crust. If it's starting to burn a little or getting too brown, cover the whole pie top in aluminum foil. Ideally, let it cool for two to three hours, but this is hard if not impossible. Good with ice cream, coffee, and a set of curable blues. Joey helps.
The whoopie pie has been one subject of a few attempts by major media outlets to connect the rising popularity of homespun "throwbacks" to economic agony and escapism in nostalgia. I'd like to think that the whoopie pie could elude connection to national gloom, but hey, if the recession is where I find my right to eat pumpkin whoopie pies for breakfast, well then thank you New York Times, I'll take your hypothesis and run with it.
The recession is fun! It resuscitated the whoopie pie! And farming!
Pumpkin Whoopie Pies
My thusly only successful recipe baked from Baked! New Frontiers in Baking
This pumpkin version is excellent as is, but I think it would also be good if you dialed back the sugar in the filling and added some maple syrup instead.
Cookie topsand bottoms
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 generous tablespoons cinnamon
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon ground cloves
2 cups firmly packed dark brown sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
3 cups chilled pumpkin puree
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Filling 3 cups confectioners' sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Make the pumpkin cookies
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves together and set aside.
2. In a separate bowl, whisk the brown sugar and oil together until combined. Add the pumpkin puree and whisk to combine thoroughly. Add the eggs and vanilla and whisk until combined. Sprinkle the flour mixture in thirds over the pumpkin mixture and whisk until completely combined.
3. Use a small ice cream scoop with a release mechanism to drop heaping tablespoons of the dough onto the prepared baking sheets, about 1 inch apart. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the cookies are just starting to crack on top and a toothpick inserted into the center of a cookie comes out clean. Remove from the oven and let the cookies cool completely on the pan while you make the filling.
Make the cream cheese filling
1. Sift the confectioners’ sugar into a medium bowl and set aside. In a separate bowl beat the butter with an eggbeater until it is completely smooth, with no visible lumps. Add the cream cheese and beat until combined.
2. Add the confectioners’ sugar and vanilla and beat until smooth. Be careful not to overbeat the filling, or it will lose structure. (The filling can be made 1 day ahead. Cover the bowl tightly and put it in the refrigerator. Let the filling soften at room temperature before using.)
Assemble the whoopie pies
1. Turn half of the cooled cookies upside down (flat side facing up). Use an ice cream scoop or a tablespoon to drop a large dollop of filling onto the flat side of the cookie. Place another cookie, flat side down, on top of the filling. Press down slightly so that the filling spreads to the edges of the cookie.
2. Repeat until all the cookies are used. Put the whoopie pies in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes to firm up before serving. The whoopie pies will keep for up to 3 days, on a parchment-lined baking sheet covered with plastic wrap, in the refrigerator.
I can't even begin to opine on the complicated machinery of magazine lifelines or what goes in to choosing which of the two most iconic food publications in circulation is to be discontinued. All I can say is that this closure is frustrating, especially since Gourmet seemed to be one of those magazines with a consistent subscriber base rather than a horde of casual thumbers in the grocery aisle who purchased the magazine on a whim (I'm lookin' at you Bon Appétit). Here's to hoping the writing and editing team for Gourmet revolts and makes an online magazine, like how Design*Sponge did when Domino was shut down. I'll offer myself up right now as a recipe tester!
This is the biggest jerk post, what with it being October first and all. Especially if you’re into eating seasonally and locally, you’re probably hungrily eyeing those peaches you canned in August instead of considering fresh peach pie. We’ll have crummy peaches all autumn here in DC, but if you think about it, well, I am from California, which means I can eat California peaches all year long with diplomatic immunity to food-consciousness since those peaches are still local to my upbringing. That’s how it works, right?
Cold, cold butter and hand-mixing with forks are the tricks to crusts that flake like biscuits
Well, good, because this is the most stupendous peach pie I have ever had the absolute pleasure of baking and inhaling. Oh yes. We even used the crummiest possible peaches from Maine—they were mealy, bruised, and either hard as rocks or smooshy soft—but the baking neutralized the unsavory textures and the honey cloaked the bitter bits in a thick, sweet caramel layer. Summer? Who needs summer when you can lie to yourself about being food-conscious year-round!
Honey-Caramel Peach Pie Adapted from Gourmet, which is also where I obtained that excellent butterscotch pudding recipe
3 lbs. ripe peaches
2 tablespoons corn starch
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, divided
1/4 cup mild honey
2 tablespoons water
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
All-butter pastry dough 1 tablespoon whole milk
1. Cut an X in bottom of each peach, then blanch peaches in batches in boiling water for 15 seconds. Transfer with a slotted spoon to an ice bath to stop cooking. Peel peaches and cut into 1-inch-thick wedges.
2. Toss peaches well with cornstarch, flour, lemon juice, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl.
Put a foil-lined large baking sheet in lower third of oven and preheat oven to 425°F.
3. Bring 1/2 cup sugar, honey, and water to a boil in a 1 1/2- to 2-quart heavy saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved, then wash down any sugar crystals from side of pan with a pastry brush dipped in cold water. Boil without stirring, swirling pan occasionally so caramel colors evenly, until dark amber, about five minutes.
4. Remove from heat and add butter, swirling pan until butter is melted. Pour over fruit and toss (caramel will harden slightly but will melt in oven).
5. Roll out 1 piece of dough (keep remaining piece chilled) into a 13-inch round on a lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin. Fit into a 9-inch pie plate. Trim excess dough, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang. Chill shell while rolling out remaining dough.
Roll out remaining piece of dough into an 11-inch round on a lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin.
6. Transfer filling to pie shell, mounding it. Cover pie with pastry round. Trim with kitchen shears, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang. Press edges together, then crimp decoratively. Brush top all over with some of milk, then sprinkle with remaining tablespoon sugar. Cut steam vents in top crust with a paring knife, and use your extra crust to cut out shapes for your loved one (e.g. ponies for Dad, hearts for Joey).
7. Bake pie on hot foil-lined sheet for 20 minutes, then reduce oven temperature to 375°F. Continue to bake until crust is golden-brown and filling is bubbling, about 50 minutes more. Cool pie to room temperature, three to four hours, or eat it 15 minutes later like we did.
