Maple Buttermilk Pie with Rye Crust

Being from a region of the country wholly nonproximate to the South, I hadn't even heard of buttermilk pie until a few months ago. Bobbie with her sweet tooth was, naturally, responsible for the curiosity after she told me about chess pie, of which I was also unaware but by which I'm now equally intrigued. The two are related, and both seem to be the type of dessert that was made with whatever the ladies of the day had handy in their kitchens. As it were, Crafty Bastards left us with a fair amount of unused buttermilk, and this pie was a perfect cool-weather solution on a weekend saturated with the most excellent visitors.

For the skeptics and the west coasters, buttermilk pie comes out of the oven with a lightly caramelized top and a sweet, thick, custardy inside. The maple in this version -- that I gather is nontraditional -- complemented the caramelization, and the whole thing tasted a bit like tangy dulce de leche. It's a little ugly and a little stunning and wholly deserving of your leftover (or new!) buttermilk.

Maple Buttermilk Pie with Rye Crust
Adapted from 101Cookbooks

Crust
Makes enough for one double-crust or two single-crust pies.
I doubled the salt and added sugar. How predictable!

Scant 2/3 cup rye flour (75 g.)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1.5 teaspoons granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
8 oz. (two sticks) unsalted butter, very cold and cut into half-inch pieces
1/4 to 1/2 cup very cold beer (!!!) or water, or slightly more (amount will depend on the weather; I used 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon beer)

1. Put the flours, sugar, and sea salt in the bowl of your food processor (or in a bowl if you don't have a processor). Pulse once to mix and sprinkle with little cubes of butter. Using short pulses (or a pastry blender), mix the butter into the flour until the crumbs range in size from large peas to oatmeal.

2. Turn the flour mixture out into a large shallow bowl. Drizzle 1/4 cup of the liquid over the flour-butter mix and cut through it with a rubber spatula to blend. If the mixture still looks dry, add more liquid one tablespoon at a time until it's pretty shaggy and holds cohesive when you squeeze it together. Divide dough into two equal pieces, wrap each in plastic wrap, flatten slightly, and refrigerate for at least one hour before rolling.

3. If you only need one crust for now, triple wrap the second in plastic and freeze for up to a week. Or! Make two pies. Rye crust is delicious with just about any filling. You could also halve the recipe, or check the archives for a different crust if you can't halve weights.

Filling
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoons golden brown sugar
6 egg yolks
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup real maple syrup (pref. grade B)
2 cups buttermilk (pref. whole fat)
1 teaspoon vanilla
scant 1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
large-grain sugar for sprinkling

1. Preheat oven to 375 F with a rack in the bottom third. Roll out one hunk of the pie dough hunks on a lightly floured surface into a 12-inch round. Guide it into a 9-inch pie dish, and trim the crust so that there is a one-inch overhang. Tuck the overhang under itself, then flute it with your fingers or crimp with a fork. Prick the bottom of the crust with a fork a bunch of times. Line the bottom and sides with one large piece of parchment or buttered foil and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 minutes, remove the weights and parchment, and bake for 10 minutes more until golden. Allow crust to cool as long as possible.

2.  Now mix the filling! In a large bowl, whisk the lemon zest, brown sugar, yolks, and flour until mixture is free of lumps. Slowly add the maple syrup, whisking, then the buttermilk, vanilla, and sea salt.

3. Dial the oven down to 325 F. Put cooled crust (or cooled-ish) on baking pan lined with foil, and pour the mixture into the shell. Bake until filling is somewhat firm around the edges and set in the center, about one hour. Filling will puff up like a crazy souffle then deflate as it cools. Allow pie to cool on a rack, sprinkle with large-grain sugar, and enjoy! Ours was finish in 24 hours, but we did leave it covered on the counter to great success during that time. If you're keeping it out for longer than a day, cover with plastic and put in the fridge.

Quince Pie with Biscuit Top + Kickasserole

For the longest, most incurious time, I thought that quinces were just bootleg pears. I always wondered why farmers market vendors didn't wipe off the cobwebs before selling them, and I instead skipped on to fruit that did not appear to have been colonized by dust bunnies. I still don't know why quinces are furry on the outside, but what I've recently learned is that the quince is pretty much one of the most ancient fruits of all time--preceding the apple in most countries--and that Greek myths and certain biblical stories involving apples might actually be referring to quinces. Ladies of the day used to bite into quinces in order to "perfume their kiss before entering the bridal chamber" (shudder), and I believe it, because this is absolutely the most perfumed fruit I've ever cooked with. Raw, it tastes like an astringent potato, but cooked up and softened, the quince magically becomes rosy and tastes like a more floral apple or a concentrated pear.

Christian tells me this is a Japanese maple. It was at its brightest during the weekend of Kickasserole!

My favorite cooking site, Lottie + Doof, seems to have incidentally started a one-blog education campaign about the fruit when he posted a Martha Stewart quince pie recipe a few weeks back. Lo and behold, that mysterious moldy-seeming pear-ish fruit was explained! And used in a beautiful pie recipe to boot! A pie recipe with no bottom crust, minimal grunt work, and enough disarmingly fruity goodness to cut through the buttery, rich, and fried tides of any Kickasserole feast. This pie, impressive if sort of homely looking as well, ended up being one of my favorite Kickasserole desserts, so much so that I literally licked the plate clean. If you can't find quinces in your area, the technique of this pie would work great with any combination of hard fruits--poach in maple syrup until palatable, cover with a salty biscuit top, and bake until bubbly and awesome.

Just about the whole Kickasserole crew!

Quince Pie with Biscuit Top!

Barely adapted from Martha Stewart via Lottie + Doof

In his version, Tim of Lottie + Doof made a maple whipped cream to go along with the pie. Most regrettably, the kitchen folk and I were not in the proper state to be whipping cream by the time the people were ready for their dessert. There was no love loss, but I'm sure the experience would have been that much better if the pie had been accompanied by the whipped cream.

For the filling

5 quinces, peeled, cored, and quartered

5 cups water

1 cup pure Grade B maple syrup

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 vanilla bean, split and scraped, pod reserved

2 teaspoons cornstarch

1.  Bring the quinces, water, syrup, sugar, and vanilla seeds + pod to a simmer in a large pot over medium heat. Cover pot with parchment paper, and cook until quinces are soft and rosy pink, about two hours. My quinces turned ruby red, but sometimes they don't change color until late in the process if at all, so be sure to judge doneness by the softness of the fruit. Discard the vanilla pod and proceed with the recipe.

For the topping

1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/3 cup fine yellow cornmeal (grind it finely in a food processor if yours is coarse or medium)

1/3 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoons salt

1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

1 cup heavy cream

3 tablespoons slivered almonds

1.  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Sift the ingredients a second time (this helps giving the biscuits lift as the topping bakes). Cut in butter with a pastry blender or two knives or rub the butter into the dry mixture with your fingers until it resembles coarse cornmeal with some large pieces remaining. Make a well in the center of the mixture. Pour in cream and stir until well-combined.

2.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer quinces to a nine-inch deep-dish pie plate set on a foil-lined baking sheet. Add one cup of the poaching liquid (reserve the rest) and the cornstarch. Toss gently. Arrange large spoonfulls (quarter- to half-cup each) of biscuit dough on top, leaving a hole in the middle; this is your steam vent. Sprinkle almonds on top and bake until biscuits are golden brown and filling is bubbling, about 50 minutes. Allow pie to cool completely; the flavors are a bit strong when warm, and this is much better at room temperature. 

For the maple whipped cream

1 cup heavy cream, chilled

1/4 cup maple syrup

1. Just before serving, whip the cream in a glass bowl until soft peaks form; fold in maple syrup. Garnish pie with scoops of cream, et voila!

And what about that poaching liquid?

Again, Lottie + Doof has the bright ideas! Tim suggested making a cocktail of rye and the leftover poaching liquid, suitably dubbed The Poacher. We mixed the poaching liquid with Knob Creek bourbon and found the flavors to be slightly too intense, so we added some sparkle water and ice and served the drink in a collins glass -- it was pretty outstanding. You could also reduce the liquid to make a syrup for use as a yogurt mix-in or ice cream topping, or maybe as a caramel addition!

Maple Pecan Tartlets (And When Things Could Go Better)

Hazelnut cardamom "tartlets"

I have a hard time screwing up. Sometimes I cry, often I break things, and if I'm not snappy then I'm hysterical. Shown are some hazelnut, cardamom, honey tartlets that I absolutely effed up three times in a row (in the same night!). Not shown is my poor little dented tartlet pan bottom that I banged repeatedly and frustratedly with a fork while trying to dislodge a stuck, curdled tart. The truth behind my kitchen is that I'm thrilled with about 80% of what I bake and totally mortified by the rest of it, and usually I only blog about what turned out awesome. I've done a lot of bake sales and events in DC since participating in that first bake sale way back when, and I've always been proud of my contributions. This makes me pretty lucky as far as sharing what I love goes, but I have yet to learn how to troubleshoot or recover when things go disastrously. If there was any day to know how to screw up gracefully, it would have been last Saturday.

Maple pecan tartlets. Say it proud!

Before the Punk Rock Flea Market, my pumpkin whoopie pies fell flat, I broke my favorite dish, broke my oven thermometer, broke the sink, and I'm pretty sure that our new oven is out of whack, so maybe I broke that too. I burned cookies, underbaked cookies, over-diluted icing, ran out of butter, lost a tartlet pan bottom, dropped stuff on the floor, and didn't bake my maple pecan tartlets with enough time to allow them to set. Panicked, I called my sister who counseled me to save what I could and walk away from the rest; "remove the stress," she said. And I did! And she was right! In the end, I donated four potato-gruyere tartlets and two dozen cookies (less than half of what I had planned to sell) with moderate success, and Joey and I spent a killer day thrifting and eating food made by others. I learned that if I must mess up, then I shouldn't agonize over it or smash my tartlet pans with a fork. I'll save what I can and walk away from the rest and hey, who knows, maybe by the time I get back, my maple pecan tarts will be set and they will taste so dang good that any anguish will have almost been worth it. Plus, I'll relearn for the umpteenth time that rushing through the kitchen is no way to bake; lesson learned (again).

Maple Pecan Tartlets

Adapted from Gourmet

Makes six tartlets, but could be adapted for one nine-inch tart.

These would be super for Thanksgiving. I love maple with most of my soul, and it's great and gooey with the pecans. The original recipe calls for maple sugar, but since it's so pricey and there's already maple syrup in the tartlets, I opted for tubrinando sugar. I don't think these needed any help in the maple department, but if you've got maple sugar lying around (you luxurious animal!), you might try it.

For the tartlet shells

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 stick plus 1 tablespoon very cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1.  In the bowl of a food processor, add flour, sugar, and salt, pulse once to blend. Sprinkle the cold butter across the top and pulse several times until mixture has some pea-sized lumps of butter and some oatmeal flake-sized lumps of butter. Do not overmix. Add the egg a little bit at a time, pulsing after each addition. Once it's all in, process in long pulses--about ten seconds each--until mixture comes together in clumps. Shortly before this stage, the processor will make a different, deeper sound; that's how you know the dough is about to be ready.

2.  Dump the contents of the processor onto a lightly floured surface, and using your hands, gently incorporate any ingredients that didn't get mixed in. Flatten dough into a disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate until firm, about two hours.  After the dough has chilled, divide into six equal rounds. Roll out each round to a five-inch diameter and gently line your tartlet shells with the rounds. Either trim the overhang or tuck it down for a double wall of crust (what I do). Pop them into the freezer for 30 minutes to chill thoroughly (this helps prevent the crusts from shrinking).

For the filling

2 large eggs

1/2 cup Grade B maple syrup (the good shtuff)

6 tablespoons light brown sugar, packed

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly

3 tablespoons maple sugar (I used turbinando)

1 1/2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

Rounded 1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup pecans, 2/3 cup finely chopped and 1/3 cup coarsely chopped

1.  Preheat oven to 370 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with foil, and line each of the frozen crusts of the tartlets with a square of lightly buttered foil, shiny side down. Bake the tartlet shells for ten minutes. Remove the foil and bake for an additional seven to ten minutes, or until the edges are slightly gold.  Remove and let cool (in pans) for about 15 minutes.

2.  Increase the temperature to 375 degrees. As crusts are cooling, whisk the eggs, syrup, sugars, vinegar, and salt in a medium sized bowl. Make sure that everything is evenly mixed.  Put the tartlet crusts on the cookie sheet, and evenly distribute the finely chopped pecans to each of the shells. Then evenly distribute the filling among the shells, and top with the remaining large pieces of pecans. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes until filling is just set. Remove and cool on racks for at least 15 minutes and up to 30, until filling has firmed somewhat. Serve warm or at room temperature, possibly with bourbon whipped cream.