Hoosier Mama's Caramel–Apple Cider Pie

“I suggest that pie is too elemental to be trendy. Trends fade, but simple, seasonal food made from good ingredients should not.” Thus prefaces pastry chef and author Paula Haney in The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie—one of the most thoughtful and well put together baking books I’ve beheld in a long time. To call it a baking book seems insufficient though. It’s more like a guide that nudges readers to reconsider their tempo in the kitchen and their relationship to ingredients, and it’s obviously first and foremost a damn fine collection of pie recipes. Haney leads you through dough, rolling (pound it out first!), and crimping to sourcing and filling, explaining the reasons behind her shop’s techniques and tweaks with a seriously trustworthy tone and obvious expertise: she speaks, and we want to listen.

Chefs have written many a fantastic books for the home cook, but they sometimes have trouble translating scale and method appropriately, or they dumb down necessary information to make it “easier” on us dudes at home. The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie—judging from the four recipes I’ve made—doesn’t make these kinds of concessions, and there’s no reason to expect that your pies at home won’t turn out every ounce as awesome as her pies in Chicago. In any case, in observance of fall and my recent stumble upon a Maryland apple farm that offers unpasteurized cider, this caramel apple cider pie seems like the most fitting offering. And if it doesn’t ring your bell, there’s plenty in the book that will: Fat Elvis Pie, Jeffersonville Maple-Pecan Pie, French Onion Soup Pie—so much fall and wintry goodness abounds.

I didn’t change much with the apple cider pie: used a rye pie dough for the crust since it was handy and exchanged a quarter of the sugar for light brown since sour cream with brown sugar is an age-old Nye family comfort dessert. I doubt I improved it at all with the tweaks, but that’s the fun of baking on your time. In the end, it’s a tangy, salty-sweet paean to fall, with the added bonus of being based on a Lottie + Doof recipe. Get to it!

Caramel–Apple Cider Pie

Adapted from The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie, by Paula Haney

Yields one nine-inch pie!

This recipe makes more caramel than you’ll need, but it is fall after all—drizzle that stuff all over them apples.

1 single-crust, blind-baked all-butter pie dough (see here or here for my favorites)

2 cups (493 grams) fresh apple cider

1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar

½ cup (121 grams) full-fat sour cream

½ teaspoon (1.5 grams) kosher salt

4 large eggs (200 grams)

1 Tablespoon (18 grams) Calvados or other apple brandy

1 Tablespoon (11 grams) apple cider vinegar

1 teaspoon (5 grams) vanilla paste

¼ cup (50 grams) caramel (recipe follows; I used about twice this amount to get the coverage I wanted)

1.  Pour the apple cider into a one-quart saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat, and simmer until the cider is reduced to one-quarter cup, ten to 15 minutes. Set aside to cool.

2.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Place your baked pie shell on a baking sheet and set aside. In a medium bowl, whisk the sugar, sour cream, and salt to combine. Crack the eggs in a small bowl and fork to combine. Whisk the eggs into the sugar mixture in three additions, mixing well after each round. Stir the Calvados, cider vinegar, and vanilla into the reduced apple cider. Pour this into the egg mixture and whisk well to combine.

3.  Pour the filling into your pie shell and bake for 40 to 45 minutes until the edges of the filling are slightly puffed. Haney says here to gently shake the pie: it should move as one piece. If the center jiggles on its own, return the pie to the oven for five to ten minutes. The top of the pie will be very shiny when set.

4.  Cool to room temperature, and prepare the caramel while you wait. Once both the pie and caramel are cool, pour one-quarter cup (or more) of caramel over the top of the pie. Spread it to the edges with the back of a spoon or an offset spatula. Chill pie in the fridge for at least two hours before serving; use a clean, dry knife to make smooth, even cuts. The finished pie can be stored in the fridge for two to three days.

Caramel

Adapted from TheHoosier Mama Book of Pie, by Paula Haney

The set-up for this caramel is somewhat involved, but it makes a correct and excellent sauce, so don’t be dissuaded!

½ cup plus two Tablespoons (126 grams) granulated sugar

½ cup (116 grams) heavy cream, at room temperature

pinch of kosher salt

1.  Fill a medium, heat-proof bowl a quarter of the way with ice. Add cold water just until the ice floats, and set aside. Place a fine-mesh strainer over a second medium, heat-proof bowl. Set aside.

2.  Place the sugar in a one-quart, heavy saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat without stirring until the sugar melts around the edges of the saucepan, about two minutes. Gently stir with a rubber spatula, then turn down the heat to medium and continue to cook until the sugar melts in the middle. Stir until all of the sugar is melted and has turned medium amber.

3. Turn the heat down to low, and immediately pour in a small addition of cream, whisking all the while. Add the rest of the cream in four additions, whisking constantly. The caramel should appear ropy at first, then form a thick sauce.

4.  Remove pan from heat and dip the bottom into the bowl of ice water to cease the cooking, being sure not to splash any water into the sauce. Remove from ice bath, and whisk in the salt. Then pour through the strainer into your heatproof bowl, and dip once more into the ice bath. Whisk occasionally until cool, assemble your pie, and use the leftovers on your apples!

Blueberry Hand Pies

Fruit + sugar + thickener + pastry. This isn’t a recipe, per se, so much as a technique; some of the best ones are. The blueberries around Baltimore are incredible right now—plums too. Raspberries, grapes, and ground cherries keep popping up, and it’s been a delicious season for white peaches and nectarines as well. You can make fah-ncy pop tarts out of any of this stuff by cooking a small amount of fruit into pie filling and then stuffing your favorite pastry with it. Rye pastry, rye pastry with beer, frissage’d buttery goodness, the food processor method, even a lard-based or cream cheese dough would work here: this is a pie for people who love crusts. And if you’re inclined toward blueberries, the filling outlined below is a super delicious way to go: strictly blueberries, sugar, salt, and thickener, there’s no lemon or vanilla to complicate flavors; it would work for any fruit. Here, the result is unbelievably berryish. Plop some hearty spoonfuls of cooled filling onto the pastry of your choice, seal, pinch, egg wash, toss with sugar, bake, and there you have it. Summer in an unfussy, buttery envelope.

Assembly

1 full recipe pastry (rye pastry below)

Fruit filling (blueberry below)

Egg wash + large-grain sugar

1.  Preheat oven to 400, and line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Divide pastry in two, and roll out into long rectangles, about an eighth-inch thick. Working with one at a time, cut each half into an even number of smaller rectangles or squares; these are the tops and bottoms of your hand pie. I made six giant pies, but you could make little square pockets or stamp out round ones too.

2. Place your bottoms on the cookie sheet, line the edges of each piece with egg wash, then spoon your cooled filling into the middle. I used a little more than a quarter-cup of filling per hand pie. Top each piece with its matching pastry, then press down the edges to seal; use a knife or rotary cutter to trim up the edges before pinching decoratively. Egg wash the tops, coat with large-grain sugar, poke some holes or slits in the top, and chill in the fridge or freezer while you assemble round two.

3. Make sure both sets of pies are very cool before baking; about 30 minutes in the freezer should do it. Pop them into your screamin’ hot oven, and bake for about ten to 12 minutes, until pastry is golden and filling is bubbling out the top or around the edges. Cool, and enjoy! Best if eaten within one day.

Rye Pastry

Adapted from Kim Boyce, Good to the Grain

For rye dough

1 cup rye flour

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 ½ sticks (6 ounces) cold unsalted butter

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Ice water

1.  Sift the flours, sugar, and salt into a large bowl, dumping any grains that remain in the sifter back into the bowl. Cut the butter into half-inch pieces and add to the mixture. Rub the butter between your fingers to break it into smaller bits, until the butter ranges in size from hazelnuts to peas; work quickly!

2.  Add the vinegar and eight tablespoons of ice water to the mixture, using a rubber spatula or your hands to cut the liquid through the dry ingredients. The dough should come together as one shaggy lump. Squeeze it together to see if a ball forms, and if it’s too dry, add more water one tablespoon at a time until dough comes together. Pile the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, sprinkle with a few dots of water, wrap, and refrigerate for at least an hour or overnight.

3.   (This next bit is a tad technical, but folding and rolling the dough like this creates seriously flaky layers of pastry.) Unwrap the dough on a floured surface and pat it into square. Roll it out to a rectangle that’s roughly 8 ½ by 11 inches. The dough will be crumbly, but fear not! It will come together. For the first turn, fold the dough in thirds like a letter; the seam should be on the left. Rotate the dough so that the seam is at the top and parallel to your body, and roll out into an 8 ½ by 11 rectangle again. Fold and roll again, and repeat the process for a third, final time. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for another hour at least, until ready to use.

Blueberry Filling

1 pound blueberries

2 ounces granulated sugar, or half honey, half sugar

.5 ounces cornstarch or tapioca starch

healthy pinch salt

1.  Whisk all your dries in a bowl, making sure the cornstarch is well blended. Toss the berries and dries in a wide, shallow pot, and cook over the highest heat, stirring all the while. The mixture will be dry at first, but in just a few minutes, the juices will start flowing and the filling will turn dark, beautiful purple. Continue cooking until filling boils, then boil for two to three minutes, until the opacity and smell of the cornstarch dissipate; you shouldn’t be able to taste it at all. Pour the filling out into a dish, press plastic to the top to prevent a skin, and cool in your fridge for about an hour or two.

Peanut Butter Honeycomb Pie and Pi(e) Day!

The first time I celebrated Pi(e) Day was as a sophomore at Berkeley in a hippie co-op full of math magicians and culinary geniuses—all pie, all day, and for some of the following day too. It was the most supreme and comforting display of nerdery, revived again in my recent life at the hands of DC's resident pie enthusiast. Every year—from her previous homes to here—Emily organizes a Pi(e) Day event, and the one she put together yesterday was a smorgasbord of sweet and savory, all heralding math, pie, and a fantastic local farm and education center that benefited from the cover cost. And boy was it ever delicious.

Spaghetti pie, chocolate hazelnut tarts, salty caramel chocolate pie, hot 'n' spicy chili pie, butterscotch meringue: I arrived totally starving and left completely wired and with a head full of ideas for new recipes and collaborations. The gals from The Runcible Spoon were there sharing a sweet craft and their latest beautiful zine (breakfast themed!), and Emily and Elizabeth's lovely pie book had a li'l cameo too. Most of my conversations with strangers ended up being about people's personal pursuits, and it was so nice to spend one of these last few days in DC hearing about—and eating!—all the creative projects that folks are working on. 

I ended up bringing four offerings to the event, three tried-and-true classics and one new recipe: labneh tart with sesame brittle, Floriole's chocolate ganache meringue tart, super tangy lemon tart, and this big ol' beastly peanut butter honeycomb pie. I only had the chance to run a piece of honeycomb through the smears of filling and crust left on the pie plate, but that was enough to know that I'll definitely be making this again. Creamy and rich, this pie hails from one of my very favorite pastry chefs who has never done me wrong. Kim Boyce knows what's up, and this ode to insanity brings out the very best in sweet, salty, crunchy, and creamy contrasts. Just don't wait until Pi(e) Day next year to make it. And, of course, a big thanks goes out to all the people who worked so hard to make DC's Pi(e) Day such a stellar and inspiring event—y'all keep this city alive!

Peanut Butter Honeycomb Pie

Adapted from Kim Boyce for Bon Appétit

I only made a few tweaks to this: upped the nutmeg, swapped the powdered sugar for cornstarch because I was concerned about it setting, omitted the salted peanuts she calls for in the end. It was a big hit at Pi(e) Day and not nearly as annoying to make as it seems! You need to allot two or three hours to set the custard, but all the individual pieces come together in about a half hour or so.

Crust
9 full-size graham crackers, broken up
1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (bumped this up to 1/4 teaspoon)
6 tablespoons butter, melted 

Filling
8 large egg yolks
12 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise (or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract)
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup creamy peanut butter (natural is fine!)
1 teaspoon cornstarch, sifted
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt

Honeycomb
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tablespoons corn syrup
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon baking soda, sifted
 
Chocolate Glaze
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate (do not exceed 61% cacao), chopped
2 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1. Make the crust:  Preheat oven to 325. Finely grind graham crackers, sugar, salt, and nutmeg in a food processor.Transfer crumb mixture to a medium bowl. Add butter and stir to blend. Use bottom and sides of a measuring cup to pack crumbs onto bottom and up sides of 9-inch pie pan. Bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes. Let cool.

2.  Make the filling: Mix yolks and six tablespoons of sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment (or you can use a handheld mixer). Beat at high speed until ribbons form, stopping once to scrape down sides of bowl, about two minutes.

3.  Combine milk and remaining six tablespoons sugar in a large saucepan; scrape in seeds from vanilla bean and add bean to pan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring to dissolve sugar. Remove bean. With mixer running, gradually add hot milk mixture to yolk mixture. Scrape mixture back into pan. Clean bowl. Whisking constantly, bring custard to a boil over medium heat. Remove pan from heat and whisk vigorously for one minute. Return custard to mixing bowl and beat on high speed until cool, about four minutes. Mix in butter, one tablespoon at a time. Add peanut butter, cornstarch, and salt; beat to blend. Scrape filling into cooled crust; smooth top. Chill until set, two to three hours.

4.  Make honeycomb: Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. Combine sugar, corn syrup, honey, and 1/4 cup water in a heavy, deep saucepan. Stir over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat to high and bring to a boil. Once boiling, cook without stirring, occasionally swirling pan and brushing down sides with a wet pastry brush, until sugar turns pale amber, about seven or eight minutes. Working quickly, remove pan from heat and add baking soda (mixture will foam up dramatically), and whisk quickly just to combine. Immediately pour candy over prepared sheet (do not spread out). Let stand undisturbed until cool, about 20 minutes. Hit candy in several places with the handle of a knife to crack into pieces

5.  Make glaze and assemble:  Once pie is set and cool, stir chocolate and butter in a small heat-proof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water until melted and smooth. Drizzle some of the chocolate glaze over the peanut butter filling, then pile pieces of honeycomb on top, then drizzle remaining chocolate glaze over the honeycomb. This pie is a beast to cut with the honeycomb on top, so if you’re worried about slice presentation, just drizzle the chocolate on the pie, and top each slice with honeycomb and more chocolate. Finally, I only used about half the honeycomb. The rest we are dipping in chocolate and snackin’ on!

Pepe's Cafe Key Lime Pie

Last week was rife with kitchen mishaps. If you follow this blog on Facebook, you'll know that I baked a pocked and overly eggy shaker lemon tart whose cloying, stringy filling was reminiscent of mop 'n' glo—mop head and all, really. I also had two nasty run-ins with the mandoline slicer and am currently operating at 60% finger capacity on my right hand. My worst kitchen moments occur when I'm rushing or distracted or both. On the ill-fated shaker lemon day, my momma was seeking a lesson on using the scanner and I was trying to wrap up some photos before losing the light, and whether or not the recipe was destined to fail, I did it no favors by rushing through to do three things at once. It's a merit badge reminder that I seem to lose every now and then.

But obviously, since this post features the most delicious Key lime pie in my family's memory bank, I got my groove back later in the week. And what finally slowed me down was Molly O'Neill's fascinating article on the story of Key lime pie. Convinced that sweetened condensed milk is a strange modern additive, O'Neill travels down to Florida to learn about the pie's history and original ingredients. There she meets David L. Sloan, a baker, former cruise ship director, and ghost wrangler, as well as the foremost Key lime pie authority.

Years previous, Sloan had discovered in a ghostly mansion a recipe handwritten by the pie's fabled inventor, "Aunt Sally," and he has continued to research the pie in all its iterations. The story is spliced with the history of sweetened condensed milk, and its inclusion in the pie is indisputable, Sloan asserts. Throughout the article he hints to twists and preferences that make this pie a family's own—cream or meringue topping, cookie or graham cracker crust, bacon or cardamom mixed in—but the invariable main filling ingredients are sweetened condensed milk, Key lime juice, and eggs. What follows is one of Sloan's favorite classic recipes, courtesy of Florida's Pepe's Cafe, and whether you take it in sum or consider it a blank canvas, it's a dang delicious way to treat your Key limes. Just be sure not to rush.

Key Lime Pie
Adapted from Pepe's Cafe, via Bon Appétit

I have access to California Key limes here, which I gather are greener and less complex than Florida Key limes. Mexico Key limes abound as well, and they look more like their Floridian counterparts, but I didn't come across them until after I'd made this. Just getcher hands on whatever Key limes you have, because this pie is outright excellent.

For the crust
1 1/2 cups pulverized graham crackers (from twelve 2 1/4" x 4 3/4" crackers, i.e., full-size grahams)
1/4 cup sugar (this could be reduced by half; do so if you're not that into super sweet)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Hearty pinch fine-grain sea salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1.  Arrange the rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, mix the ground crackers, sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Drizzle on the butter, and toss with a fork until evenly moistened. Press crumbly mixture along the bottom and up the sides of a nine-inch pie plate (I had extra; made a good ice cream topping).

2.  Bake until crust set and golden brown, about ten minutes. Set aside to cool while you make the filling.

For the filling
2 large egg whites
4 large egg yolks
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup fresh squeezed Key lime juice

To serve
1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar

1.  Beat the egg whites in a medium bowl until they've formed stiff peaks, but aren't yet glossy. Set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and sweetened condensed milk. Add the lime juice and whisk until combined. Fold in one-third of the egg whites to lighten the mixture, then fold in the rest until evenly combined.

2.  Pour the filling into the graham shell, spreading evenly along the top. Bake until just set in the center, about 20 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely, then refrigerate for at least two hours before serving. To serve, I found it was easiest to run my very sharp knife under hot water and dry it before each cut. The warm knife sliced well, and the whole thing served up totally intact—much cleaner than I thought it would.

3.  When ready to serve, beat the heavy cream and sugar until soft peaks form. Top each slice with a dollop of whipped cream, or mound it in the center of the whole pie if you're going to eat the entire thing and prefer that presentation. Pie keeps best without the whipped cream atop and will last for about three days covered in the fridge.

Apple Cranberry Pie

It’s the morning of my departure from the farm, and I’m not convinced that I can think clearly enough to string together two thoughts about this delicious pie. Leaving has left me utterly verklempt. Joey and I have planned a sweet two-week road trip down to North Carolina and back up to DC for Christmas, but for the first time in a long time, I’m more focused on what I’m leaving behind than on what’s ahead; needless to say, working as a cheesemaker in Maine has been an experience that has me all sorts of choked up about what’s next.

While falling asleep in a cloud of wine fumes last night, I thought about a few of the standout moments from my “semester at sea.” There was that very first affirming market, seaside at Winter Harbor; an incredible cookout at Clover Crest farm and the attendant fables of a calf cannon for disposing of dead baby cows; that night of bootleg vodka and verbal perversions in Brewer; my first contra dance!; an abundance of but still never enough lake time; the sickening and bloody task of disbudding a few baby goats of their horns; that party at a radical collective farm down south that found me and Emily sleeping in the back of her truck; a few stoned and raucous nights around the table talking about salt and poking holes in each others' cultural theories; breeding the goats! petting the baby goats all the time! running with the goats!; I even loved mucking the barn. This has been a time of unprecedented mental and emotional challenge for me, and I’m sincerely grateful for all of it, particularly the parts that super sucked.

Another standout moment would of course be Thanksgiving, at which this pie won hearts and stomachs. Dave, a former chef who would rather retire to bed with a PB&J than eat something even remotely subpar, is fond of telling me that things I bake are “fine”; it’s his concise way of excusing himself for a sandwich. He who did not especially like my waffles, doughnuts, raspberry cake, latkes, goat cheese cheesecake, or banana bread--and you surely know where I’m headed here--fell head over heels with this pie. And so did I! The recipe is a spin on Yossy’s apple, quince, cranberry pie, and her combination of allspice, orange, and vanilla is just perfect. This was also my first cranberry-baking experience, and I ain’t lookin’ back. I will forever hold it against Dave for not taking me canoeing to pick cranberries from the riverbank, which is apparently a thing that they do here and just forgot to tell me about--curses! At least it’s something to look forward to and demand upon any future fall visits.

Meanwhile, it’ll probably be a bit silent here while I’m on the road, but there’s an exciting interview coming up soon and lots of holiday-spirited deliciousness in the archives. Just have a look around! And thanks, as always, for following along.
 

 Apple Cranberry Pie

Adapted from Apt. 2B Baking Co.’s Apple, Quince, Cranberry Pie

For the Crust
From Apt. 2B Baking Co. and I Made That!

Makes two, or enough for one lidded pie. Feel free to substitute in your favorite recipe.

12 ounces pastry flour
1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
8 ounces (two sticks) very cold butter
4 to 6 ounces ice water
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

1.  On a clean counter, dump your flour and salt; mix it around with a bench scraper. Chop one stick of butter into quarters, and cut it into the four with your bench scraper. When butter is about the size of lima beans, cut in the second stick, pulling, folding, and tossing with the bench scraper as you go, until the butter is about the size of quarters. Add the vinegar to the ice water.

2.  Using your fingers, flick the water onto the butter-flour mixture, gently folding with the bench scraper all the while. You have added enough water once the mixture holds together when squeezed; it should be very shaggy.

3.  Next, push the butter into the flour. Using the heel of your palm, push a small section of the dough down and away from you; this creates long layers of butter in your dough, which translates to long flaky layers in your crust. Use your bench scraper to scrape up the smear, and put it a bowl. Repeat until all the dough has been smeared and you have a bowlful of long, buttery layers. Push these into one mass, divide in half, wrap each in plastic, flatten into disks, and chill at least two hours, or better yet overnight.

For the Filling
5 or 6 large tart apples, about 3 pounds (I used Northern Spy and Empire)
1 cup fresh cranberries
zest and juice of one small lemon
zest and juice of half of an orange
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon sea salt salt
2 tablespoons butter (salted is my preference), cut into little cubes
1 egg yolk whisked with a touch of water, for topping
Large-grain sugar, for topping

1.  Prepare dough: Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out one half of your pie dough into a 12-inch circle. Gently fit it into a nine-inch pie plate, and place it in the fridge to chill. Roll out top dough into a 12- to 13-inch circle and, if planning to do a lattice-top pie, cut dough into eight to ten strips that are about one inch wide (I prefer the thick strips!). Place in the fridge to chill; it’s easiest for me to slide the strips on the back of a cookie sheet and into the fridge.

2.  Prepare filling: Peel and core the the apples, then cut them into half-inch slices (I kept my slices long, but you can cut them into chunks too if you prefer). Put the apples and cranberries into a large bowl, then gently toss with lemon and orange juices and zests. Add the sugar, vanilla bean pulp, flour, allspice, and salt, and stir to gently to combine.

3.  Assemble: Pour filling into the prepared pie shell, and dot with the bits of butter. Weave your lattice across the top (this is a great tutorial), or top with a full crust if you’d rather. Trim the overhanging crust pieces to about one inch, tuck under, and crimp. Cut some vents into the top if you’re carrying on with a full crust, brush with the egg yolk mixture, and sprinkle with a tablespoon or two of large-grain sugar.

4.  Slide pie onto a cookie sheet, and bake for 15 minutes on the lowest rack of your oven. Lower the temperature to 350 degrees and continue baking for another 40 to 50 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and filling is bubbling up around the edges. Remove from oven and let pie cool for an hour or two before serving up with a dollop of vanilla whipped cream.

Four and Twenty Blackbirds Salty Honey Pie

My mid-Atlantic pals are all hunkered down awaiting Sandy’s onslaught, battening the hatches, roasting whole turkeys, and guzzling liquor in equal measure. Some of them are camped out on the first floors of their houses, and most of them are apparently wearing short shorts, watching SVU, and playing Scrabble. I’m not envious, but I would a little bit love to be home stuffing my face and playing Celebrity with all my buds; I miss you, dudes, and wish you much safety! Up in our neck of the woods, preparations have included anchoring the barn, sheltering the baby goats from the wind, and burning the shit out of our emergency ration of molasses gingerbread (dang it)--our straits are none too dire. If the power goes out here, the Victrola will go on marathon-play, and we’ll battle out Trivial Pursuit in front of the wood-fired stove. All in all a homey prospect that Dave likens to “summer camp.”

This salty honey pie from last week’s snatch of Sunday free time has little to do with the storm, though it could make a tasty hurricane snack if you’ve got the power and time. It hails from Four & Twenty Blackbirds, a pie shop in Brooklyn that I’ve long been meaning to check out (and finally will in December!). My ol’ Tartner in crime, Emily H. of Nothing-in-the-House, whipped this up in tart form a few times back in February, but it somehow eluded my fork until last week. Daniel, our latest WWOOFer, is a certifiable honey addict who eats the stuff by the heaping spoonful; I’ve never seen a person be so into honey. Couple that with Scott, a salt hobbyist with a preference for the fancy stuff, and this place houses the perfect audience (and ingredients) for this salty-sweet goodness. I was expecting a seriously gooey filling, but it bakes up like a crunchier custard with a deep honey flavor. The only thing we were missing was whipped cream!

Mood lighting.

If you’re interested in reading more about the sisters behind this recipe and the pie shop, give a gander to this interview that Emily did with them, and then go make the pie. Stay safe, y'all. The goats and I are thinking of you.

Salty Honey Pie

Adapted from Melissa and Emily Elsen, via Nothing-in-the-House

The original recipe calls for prebaking the crust, but we were all out of foil and parchment paper at the time, so I skipped that step as did Emily. It worked out great!

For Filling

1/2 cup (8 tablespoons) butter, melted

3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 tablespoons cornmeal

1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

3/4 cup good-quality honey

2 teaspoon white vinegar

1 tsp vanilla paste (I used 1 teaspoon vanilla extract instead)

3 eggs, whisked to blend

1/2 cup cream

1 to 2 tablespoons flaky sea salt for finishing (pink Himalayan!)

1.  Roll out pie dough (recipe below!) to a 12-inch circle and line a nine-inch pie plate with it. Roll edges under, crimp as you please, and toss it in the freezer while you ready the filling.

2.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, whisk the melted butter with the sugar, salt, and cornmeal to make a thick paste. Add the honey, vinegar, and vanilla. Whisk in the eggs, then add the cream and blend.

3.  Pour the filling into the frozen pie shell and bake at 350 degrees F for 45 to 60 minutes; rotate pie halfway through baking. The filling will puff up, and it should be wobbly in the middle and firm around the edges. Cool pie for at least an hour (I’d actually recommend longer; this pie was best at room temperature), and finish with a layer of sea salt; I found that one tablespoon was about right. Slice and serve with freshly whipped cream!

Pie Dough

By way of Apt. 2B Baking Co. and Brandi Henderson

Makes enough for two, but you’ll only need one for this recipe. Feel free to substitute in your favorite crust recipe instead!

12 ounces pastry flour

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

8 ounces (two sticks) very cold butter

4 to 6 ounces ice water

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

1.  On a clean counter, dump your flour and salt; mix it around with a bench scraper. Chop one stick of butter into quarters, and cut it into the four with your bench scraper. When butter is about the size of lima beans, cut in the second stick, pulling, folding, and tossing with the bench scraper as you go, until the butter is about the size of quarters. Add the vinegar to the ice water.

2. Using your fingers, flick the water onto the butter-flour mixture, gently folding with the bench scraper all the while. You have added enough water once the mixture holds together when squeezed; it should be very shaggy.

3. Next, push the butter into the flour. Using the heel of your palm, push a small section of the dough down and away from you; this creates long layers of butter in your dough, which translates to long flaky layers in your crust. Use your bench scraper to scrape up the smear, and put it a bowl. Repeat until all the dough has been smeared and you have a bowlful of long, buttery layers. Push these into one mass, divide in half, wrap each in plastic, flatten into disks, and chill at least two hours, or better yet overnight.

Coffee S'more Nutella Pie

“It’s called a ‘swing,’ not a ‘bounce,’” my partner barked in my ear as I bobbed away during my first contra dance last week in Bangor. I laughed it off and apologized, “Oh! It’s just that I’m excited to be learning. I’ll take note.” He grunted and mumbled advice about watching the other women to learn the feet properly, before I was passed off to another partner, this one blessedly more clueless than I was. There was a 16-year-old who swung me so hard I thought I would surely fall over, a professional dance mentor who forced me into constant, awkward eye contact to ward off dizziness (it worked?), and a young bespectacled beanpole who was counting all the beats and clearly annoyed when I interrupted him with a hullo during our turn together. Peter, my favorite besides Bonnie, was a tall soft-spoken fellow with bare feet and a ponytail who pulled me aside for a lesson in “centrifugal force” (spinning) and has been a contra dancer for as long as he can remember; he reminded me of my friend Aaron who can build anything, talk to anyone, and is one of the greatest fun-havers around. Arlene and I left the dance in stitches about some of the folks we met, others on whom we spied, and my own missteps too: the night was unexpectedly excellent.

That continuous laughter about everything, even cock-ups at the contra dance, is the precise difference between life now and six weeks ago. “Fuckton,” for instance, is acceptable workplace phraseology—and an exact unit of measurement!—and that freedom to let loose coupled with everyone’s generally sick and thriving senses of humor renders me doubled over with belly laughs on a near daily basis. There’s the whole farm thing and goats and cheese too, but it’s really the laughing that feels so different and welcome; I hope that it never dries up. And I'm doing my part to make sure that it doesn't by embracing being in new or weird situations as often as possible, especially if it means that I'll end up laughing at myself.

The Bangor dance was just one of many such moments where I had a guffaw-filled time by being out of my element, but it was also a self-imposed homework assignment. Arlene has warned me that it’s “only sort of okay” to be a contra first-timer at the dance in Belfast, and we're dead-set on attending in October. The coast on one side, country on the other, and jam-packed with awesome people and excellent food, Belfast is one of the best towns around, and the dance there also offers a potluck break and social hour halfway through the night. I can't wait to attend, pie in tow. This here s'more pie would be a great offering to such an event as it's a real crowd-pleaser. The crust tastes like a candy bar, the coffee ganache is outstanding, the marshmallow meringue ties the whole thing together with a sweet kick, and if you have a kitchen torch (we don't), it's an oven-free pie to boot. It would be welcome at any potluck, campfire, or giggle riot, or, if you’re working on a sweet farm in Maxfield, Maine, all three! 

Coffee S'more Nutella Pie

Adapted from Bon Appetit

The main thing I changed for this was to increase the volume and sweetness of the meringue. The original recipe called for the whites from just two eggs, which seemed skimpy, so I doubled it and the sugar. You'd be fine leaving the sugar at the original half-cup too, but don't pinch on the whites! Also, I've lately used nothing but salted butter because it's what we have. You could use either, and the original doesn't call for salt anyway, but it's pretty much the best ingredient for baked goods, so below you'll see salt both within and in addition to the butter.

Graham Cracker Crust

9 whole graham crackers, ground finely in a food processor

2 tablespoons heavy cream

2 tablespoons Nutella

1 ounce semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, melted

1 tablespoon salted butter, melted

Coffee Ganache

12 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped (go with bittersweet if you can)

2 tablespoons salted butter, cut into half-inch cubes

1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt, or to taste1 1/4 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons finely ground coffee beans

Meringue

4 large egg whites, at room temperature

Pinch salt

1 cup fine sugar

1.  For graham cracker crust: mix graham cracker crumbs and remaining ingredients in a small bowl to blend. Press mixture onto bottom and up sides of pie dish; chill until crust is firm, about 30 minutes.

2.  For coffee ganache: place chocolate and butter in a large bowl. Bring cream, coffee, and two tablespoons water to a boil in a small saucepan. Remove from heat; cover and let steep for five minutes.

3.  Strain cream mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into bowl with chocolate and butter; discard coffee grounds. Stir until melted and ganache is smooth. Pour into chilled crust; smooth top. Chill in freezer while you clean up and prepare the meringue.

4.  For meringue: set a small pot of water to simmer over medium-low heat. When simmering, add egg whites and pinch of salt to the bowl of stand mixer or other heat-proof bowl. Place over but not touching simmering water, and, whisking constantly, cook until egg whites are warm to the touch, about three minutes.

5.  Next, whip eggs and pinch of salt using whisk attachment or egg beaters on medium until they’re foamy. With the machine running, gradually add sugar, and begin beating on high until eggs whites hold very stiff peaks. Plop the meringue all over your chocolate ganache, anchoring at the crust, and pop into the broiler for two to five minutes to toast the meringue; be sure not to burn! Keep the pie refrigerated if you can, although we kept ours at room temperature for three days and it was totally fine.

Blueberry Hyssop Pie

Slumpy little slice!

Our long-time cheesemaker, Arlene, is nursing her green thumb right along with her curd hands. Her garden out back runs amok with oodles of purple onions, more broccoli than we can shake a fork at, giant sunflowers, and hordes of a sweet little herb called hyssop. Previously unknown to me, hyssop has this week made its way into my iced tea, my lemonade, a goat cheese blueberry parfait, and inevitably, this pie. Known as licorice-mint in some parts of the country, and distinct from the same-named hyssop of the Mediterranean, anise hyssop hails from the mint family, lingers faintly like anise, and has a bit of balmy lemon flavor. It’s outstanding, in other words, and a lovely way to welcome into our kitchen the forthcoming months of blueberries.

As my dinner on Saturday and breakfast on Sunday, this pie has been, in a way, the dessert soundtrack to what’s starting to feel like the gradual diminishing of summer. There still remain several scorching weeks and we haven’t even scratched the surface of blackberries yet, but everything on the farm is being completed with a frantic eye toward autumn. We’re plucking the very last of the raspberries for our cheesecakes, making camembert every week for the fall, an aged cheese each Friday for winter, and adjusting as the goats slowly start to produce less and less milk. After a week of ardor and strange news, Arlene and I reveled in a quiet, far-away Saturday night spent at the lake. With bellies full of pie and beers in tow, we drove out to our secret diving rocks on Schoodic Lake to catch the purple sunset and a swim few leisurely laps before it got too dark to tell which way was up. It has been unexpected the way a town of 80 and farm of five manages to make me feel so grateful for moments of respite, which seem especially fleeting now as we prepare for fall. Fortunately, there are avenues for getting away, and sinking into a lake or this pie are surely two of them.

Blueberry Hyssop Pie

Inspired by Heidi Swanson's Blueberry Lemon Verbena Pie

Crust

2 sticks unsalted butter, very cold
½ cup to ¾ cup ice water
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt

1.  Start by cubing your butter into half-inch pieces.  Put these in the freezer while you ready the rest of the ingredients.  Measure three-fourths cup of water, add some ice cubes and set aside to chill.

2.  Mix all of your dry ingredients to a large shallow bowl. Working quickly, cut the butter into the flour mixture with your pastry blender, or by rubbing the butter into the flour with your fingers. Continue until the butter pieces range in size from oatmeal flakes to lima beans.

3.  Drizzle just 4 ounces of the ice water (minus the cubes) over the butter flour. Using a rubber spatula, cut the moisture quickly into the dough, gathering it together as you do. If the dough is too dry, add more water 1 tablespoon at a time until the dough comes together in a shaggy mess. Push the dough together, divide into two equal pieces, and wrap in plastic wrap.  Flatten into disks about five inches in diameter, and store in the fridge for at least an hour, preferably longer.

Filling

⅔ cup granulated sugar

25 fresh hyssop leaves chopped to equal ⅓ cup (scroll down for photo)
2 pounds of blueberries
⅓ cup all-purpose flour or cornstarch
¼ teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
zest from juiced lemon
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 egg plus one tablespoon water, whisked until no streaks remain
Large-grain or natural sugar for sprinkling

1.  Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. With a mortar and pestle or in a small bowl using the end of a tapered rolling pin or handle of a wooden spoon, grind the sugar and herbs together to release the hyssop’s flavor. This takes about five minutes, and you’ll see the sugar start to clump together with the oils when you’ve gone far enough. Add blueberries to a large bowl, and gently toss with sugar, flour/cornstarch, and blueberries.

2. Roll out one of your two pasty dough disks to 11 or 12 inches, and fit into a 9-inch pie plate with about one inch of overhang. Pop in the fridge while you roll out your second disk to a roughly 12-inch circle, and if there’s room, place this disk on the back of a cookie sheet and slide it into the fridge while you assemble the pie. Pile the berry mixture into your lined pie plate, carefully mounding in the center until berries start to spill down the sides. Pour lemon juice over berries, dot with butter, and top with lemon zest.

3.  Center top pastry dough over the berries. Pinch the edges of the two crusts together, roll them under the bottom crust, and pinch decoratively. Cut slits in the top for steam vents. Brush the top crust with your egg wash, sprinkle with large-grain sugar for crunch, and place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet. Pop in the oven and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, checking often after the 25-minute mark to ensure that crust isn’t burning. If it is, just place a sheet of foil over the top. Remove pie from oven when crust is deep golden brown and filling is bubbling, and allow to cool to room temperature for several hours. Leftover pie keeps well in the fridge!

The only green this blog has ever known.