Redemption (of the cocoa cream variety)

Since my stomach flu set back, I decided to switch gears and try my hand at a cream pie.

Up until last weekend, the closest I've ever come to making a cream pie was a cheater chocolate pudding pie (pre-made pie crust + box of instant chocolate pudding + Cool Whip). The resulting pie was boring and bland, but the kids loved it. (Go figure.)

Honestly, cream pies just aren't my favorite.

I always, always reach for a fruit pie over a cream one. Plus, the thought of making a cream pie was always sort of intimidating, which is why my half-assed attempt was so, well, half-assed.

So, to venture into the world of cream pies, I figured it was best to first try a proven cream pie recipe from a cream pie expert. I picked up Lauren Chattman's Icebox Pies and gave her Raspberry and Cocoa Marscapone Cream Pie a whirl.

I followed her recipe and whipped together cocoa powder, confectioner's sugar, marscapone cheese and heavy whipping cream.



In the background is the photo of how the recipe should turn out.
(It had me at "hello" with that chocolate crust and those plump, glorious berries.)



I learned through trial and error to beat the filling until soft peaks form.
(My first batch resembled melted chocolate ice cream.)

Once the filling was the right consistency, I spooned it into a home made chocolate cookie crust (also in the book) that had raspberry jam smeared in the bottom. Then, I topped the whole thing with fresh raspberries and gave it a light dusting of confectioner's sugar.

Viola!

I served it with the recommended raspberry coulis (blended, strained raspberries with lemon juice and confectioner's sugar) and it was absolutely TO DIE FOR.

Thank you, Ms. Chattman. Despite being incredibly easy, this pie was elegant and sophisticated. The coulis (also in the book) was incredible. (And I can't stop saying it, "Coulis, coulis, coulis!")

Obviously, I can't use someone else's recipe for the contest, so I'm already thinking of ways to change it up. Besides, if you're not a fan of marscapone, this pie is not for you. Not wanting to risk displeasing a judge, I'm considering replacing the marscapone with cream cheese and making a mocha-flavored filling instead.

Or maybe I'll see what adding a little rum will do. (Generally speaking, I think nearly everything's better with rum.)

Still, this pie was so good, it lasted only a day and a half. I shared a few slices with the neighbors, but my husband and I managed to polish it off ourselves in record time. (Hubby even licked his plate clean.)

Oh, and if I can just have a moment here...

I swear, nothing beats the smell a fresh-baked chocolate cookie crust. Nothing.

That heavenly, chocolaty aroma was so wonderfully decadent -- so simply orgasmic, it took every ounce of my being to resist devouring it out straight out of the pan, sans filling.

In the end, I'm glad I restrained myself.

And I'm especially glad that my first foray into the world of cream pies was a smashing success.


~ ~ ~ ~


P.S. In case you're counting along, there are only 233 days left until the pie bake-off.

Set back.

When I was in high school, a friend and her mother took me to my first Chinese restaurant.

Being one of five kids, my family didn't eat out much, so the trip was a real treat.

Previously, the only Chinese food I'd ever eaten was La Choy chop suey from a can. So I was thrilled to try eating real Chinese food with real chopsticks and finish my meal with a real fortune cookie.

The experience was everything I'd hoped it'd be. The food was great and the atomosphere exotic. (For a fifteen year-old.) I left the restaurant with a full belly and a sense of pride. I even took my chopsticks home as a souvenir.

Then, the unimaginable happened.

That night, I was hit with an awful case of the stomach flu. For days, my stomach was in knots and I threw up so much, I broke blood vessels around my eyes.

And while it wasn't food poisoning (other family members fell ill too), I mentally associated that meal with being sick. As a result, I couldn't eat Chinese food for years.

Why am I telling you this?

Because scant hours after my last post -- a post I wrote while eating a piece of apple pie -- I came down with a nasty case of the stomach flu.

And as I lay in my bed, reeling with each twist and turn of my GI tract, all I could think of was that pie.

Ugh, that pie!

The virus spread through my entire house. Though I felt better after a few days, I spent the better part of last week caring for my sick husband and kids. It was miserable. We were miserable. And I couldn't help but associate the bug with that apple pie.

I hoped this negative association would quickly disappear, but so far it hasn't.

On Sunday, I made this caramel pear pie, hoping to turn the tide, but the plan didn't work. I had to force myself to eat a small slice.


No love for this cutie pie.

 It appears I've lost my taste for pie.

And with just 246 days left until the bake off, this is a problem.

A Big. Freaking. Problem.

I dream of pie.

I dream about pie now.

Seriously, I do. I've been spending so much time baking and researching baking, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

I dream about fruit.

And about different ways to prepare it.

And different ways to enhance its flavor.

And about how good it feels when it all comes together.

And about how great it feels watching others enjoy it.

Inpired by fear

A week ago, I sat down at my desk at work and found this:

I dropped a container of special pie filling in the freezer for you. Use it well.
Maida
P.S. Love the blog!

A note from Maida herself! Who knew she was a fan?!?

I raced to the fridge in the break room and opened the freezer to find pure gold: a huge container of tart Door County cherries.

Holy crap. The Pie Queen herself wants me to bake a cherry pie -- using the most delicious, succulent, amazing cherries on the planet.

After my initial wave of excitement, anxiety crept in. OK. It wasn't anxiety. It was bone-chilling, mind-numbing fear.

Having just underbaked a berry pie two days earlier, my confidence in being able to master pie making by The Fourth was shot. These cherries are too good, too perfect. The thought of blowing several pints of Door County cherries in a mediocre test pie made me nauseous.

"I can't risk screwing these up," I thought.

And so as I tucked the precious gift deep into my freezer at home, I began thinking about my pie making technique and the learning process.

Up to that point, I'd been following recipes and throwing raw, chopped fruit into pie dough, tossing it in the oven, and then crossing my fingers that they'd taste good and not have the consistency of a melted slushie.

That's a time-consuming and expensive proposition -- and one with unreliable results. I'd already blown whole pies with poorly baked/seasoned filling.

And so I wondered: Could someone make their pie filling on the stove where they're better able to monitor and adjust the consistency and flavor?

Think of it like spaghetti sauce. You simmer and stir, adding a pinch of this or that, constantly tasting and adjusting to get the perfect mix. Would it work with pie too?

I set out to find stove-top pie recipes and found relatively few. I did come across the advice that cooking the filling on the stove allows the fruit to cook down some before baking -- a technique that prevents the gap between top crust and fruit from forming.

I figured it was worth a try -- especially like a beginner for me.

I pulled out my biggest skillet and began melting butter and brown sugar. I adding loads of apples, combining Granny Smith and Golden Delicious for a nice sweet/tart contrast. I added a pinch of cinnamon and even a splash of bourbon (an interesting ingredient I saw in a cook book once) and thickened the mixture with apple juice and instant tapioca. I simmered everything over low heat and inhaled the heavenly aroma.

Once I was satisfied with the flavor and consistency, I let it cool some and then poured it into a pie plate.

The results were delicious. (Although I learned to only partially cook the fruit on the stove, otherwise it'll be too mushy after baking in the oven.)

I'm sure I won't use the stove-top method exclusively, it'll certainly come in handy as I try to develop my own, original recipes for the contest.

So far I've made two apple pies using the stove-top method and I've been really pleased with the results. My confidence is restored and I'm feeling eager to forge ahead.

And so I need to thank my mystery Maida.

Thank you for inspiring me -- by scaring the hell out of me -- to try something new.

Butter haiku

Butter. My first love.
A pure and sinful delight.
Two sticks per pie: Nice.

Creamy yellow bliss.
You make my pies taste yummy.
Heaven on a fork.

Oh butter, my dear.
You give my crusts golden flair.
And make my ass huge.

Bud-ahhhh.

The verdict: Blackberry crumble pie

The blackberry crumble pie kicked ass.

Seriously, this recipe is a real contender. If I make a few adjustments, blackberry crumble may be the pie to win the berry category.

Overall, my taste-testers really liked it. The berries: sweet and succulent. The cinnamon-nutmeg crumb topping: crunchy, buttery deliciousness. And the crust: a flaky slice of heaven.

The highest compliment? Multiple requests for seconds.

I plan to make it again this weekend to iron out the wrinkles and practice using my new pastry cloth, which will hopefully make it easier to transfer dough to the pie plate. (And will result in fewer tears on my part.)

With this pie, I learned a valuable lesson: When adding apples to recipes to help with taste and thickening, dice or shred the apples into tiny pieces. They'll bake down and thicken the filling more.

My apple chunks didn't bake down enough. They were just too big.

Blackberry crumble pie earned 17.25 points out of 20; the highest scoring recipe so far.

Last week, I was feeling anxious about this whole thing -- this shark was about to lose her snark.

But this pie gave my spirits a much-needed boost. If I can perfect it, I'm sure to enter the contest with a killer pie and a gigantic chip on my shoulder.

Booyah.

Blackberry crumble: Maida's way

Maida and I hit the grocery store to procure ingredients for the "award-winning" blackberry pie in her book.

I let her lead.

This recipe caught my attention because for one, it calls for frozen fruit.

Now I know it's best to use fresh, but I need fruit I can rely on (taste-wise).

I need a constant. A sure thing.

The contest is in July. It's highly likely that fruit from all four categories are NOT going to be in season at the same time. I need ingredients I can count on for flavor and texture.

The recipe calls for a granny smith apple to add another flavor element,
but also to add pectin, a natural thickening agent.

This is an open-faced pie with a crumb topping made of dark brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and unsalted butter.

With the crumb top.

I also used Maida's pie crust recipe and I've gotta tell you. This dough was a beast to work with. I kept it as cold as possible and followed her instructions to the letter, but when I rolled it out and tried to transfer it to the pan, the whole thing crumbled to pieces in my hands.

(My husband came running when he heard me scream.)

So, I patched the dough back together as best I could.

Crust 911!

Baked it and, viola:

Finished product.

She sure won't be the prettiest girl at the party, but I hope she puts out (TASTE, people!).

I'm taking it to work today for my co-workers to help test.

Stay tuned for the results.

Pie cocktail

Pie + Cocktails. Two of my favorite things.

PIE COCKTAIL
2 oz Liquor43
1 oz fresh squeezed lime juice
3/4 oz heavy cream
*graham cracker rim

Thank you, Stark Bar. Thank you.

81 days down; it's time to call in the big guns.

Oh man. What did I get myself into?

There are 284 days -- that's about 40 weeks -- until the Fourth of July pie bake-off and I feel like I'm running out of time.

In the past 81 days, I've research and tested countless pie crust and fruit-pie recipes and so far, everything's been mediocre at best.

Since coming out of the closet at work, I've found tremendous support and encouragement, but to be honest, I'm feeling anxious realizing I've got to step it up if the quality of my pies is ever going to match my trash talk.

(I've been bragging that The Food Network someday will offer me my own series, plus wads and wads of cash to license Pie Shark merchandise. If that's not cocky...)

But despite all this talk, I've totally been spinning my wheels in the peach pie category, baking three fairly shitty test pies in a row.

Oh, what do I expect? I'm a newbie. A novice. I can't possibly master pie baking in one year's time.

Or can I?

I'm hoping a lesson from Maida will help. Since getting her book, I've spent nearly every spare minute reading it, absorbing every nugget of pie wisdom, hoping to transform my lame-ass attempts into Pie Gold.

This weekend I intend to bake at least one pie from Maida's book and I will follow her instructions to the letter. And those instructions are pretty detailed. She even tells you exactly what size eggs to use. There's one recipe that's nearly three pages long!

Help me, Obi-Wan Maida. You're my only hope.

Peach-blueberry pie results

This whole thing -- this quest to win a pie contest -- has largely been under wraps. I have told only a select few people -- pretty much just family and friends -- about this crazy goal.

Why? For one, I live in a pretty small community and I'd like to keep this on the down low here. I am, after all, trying to take down bakers who are my neighbors and my kids' friends' parents and grandmas.

But desperately needing feedback -- real, quantitative data I can use to test and perfect recipes and technique -- is essential. And so, with great apprehension, I came out of the closet to my co-workers.

I was nervous at first. Admittedly, this is a hair-brained scheme. And in a workplace where professionalism and credibility are highly valued, I didn't want to come across as, well, you know... cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

But I was delighted when my co-workers rallied around me. They loved the kitschy concept (as do I) of a total unknown entering a small community bake-off and scooping up all the prizes.

I'm also thrilled to have help eating all this pie. I never thought I'd be getting tired of peach pie (my favorite in the world) so quickly.

And so, I had help testing two variations of peach-blueberry pie. Armed with evaluation forms, paper plates and plastic ware, I set up the taste-test station in our break room and patiently (or impatiently) waited for the results.

My co-workers did not disappoint. They were eager participants who gave loads of great feedback:

Peach-blueberry #1
This pie was beautiful. Stunningly, mouthwateringly beautiful. The golden crust was picture perfect and certainly worthy of adorning the cover of Pie Weekly, a quarterly magazine that doesn't yet exist, but I just might start.

The inside of the pie was a total disaster. This pie needed to bake longer, so the fruit was tough and the filling was a runny mess. On the 20-point rating scale, it didn't fare well. Overall rating: 12.5 out of 20 

Attempt #1: Pretty, but a holy mess on the inside.
Score: 12.5

Peach-blueberry #2
My second attempt wasn't as pretty as the first, but the filing was miles ahead in terms of taste and texture. I did manage to botch this one too, by adding too much ground clove, giving the pie a heavily seasoned flavor -- and not in a good way. Overall rating: 15 out of 20. 

Attempt #2: Meh. Better, but not a winner.
Score: 15

The peach-blueberry pie verdict
My taste-testers and I agreed that the peach-blueberry combo was pretty and tasted OK, but lacked pizazz. A 20-point pie should sing in one's mouth. The clouds should part, angels should descend and one should hear the hallelujah chorus when savoring a bite. And these pies failed in that department.

The triple-berry peach I'd attempted earlier had more of a wow factor and I think it's because of the raspberries' deliciously sweet bursts of flavor. I think I'll try to develop that recipe a little more.

Lessons learned
I'm cramming years and years of baking experience into a very short amount of time. I'm learning so much from all these little successes and failures -- lessons that top bakers learn over time.

I've learned not to roll pie crust in a hot, humid house and be sure to cut steam vents wide enough so they don't seal up while baking. I've also learned to toss fruit with lemon juice to prevent browning and to add a little acidity.

Each pie is a learning opportunity. And I'm learning lots.

I've also learned that you can put anything (even a fairly shitty pie) in the break room at work and it'll get eaten. And as long as my co-workers are willing to complete my little evaluation forms, I'm feeling pretty confident that their feedback will help propel me to the ranks of the top pie bakers of all time.

They just might have to eat a lot of crappy pie to help me get there.

Pies on the go

Last week, I traveled to Alexandria, VA to attend a conference for work.

It was two and a half days of amazing.

First off, I had the opportunity to hear from leaders in my industry who shared their ups and downs, plus loads of practical advice. I filled a whole spiral notebook taking notes!

Second, being a busy mom of four (ages 11 years to 11 months), spending two nights in a hotel room, with a fluffy white comforter and an uncontested remote was pure bliss.

Room service? Yes, please.

And third, much to my delight, the trip was not without its share of pie.

Even though I didn't have time to track down the best bakery in VA to sample New England pie, it seemed as if pie was everywhere.

Reading a magazine on the flight, I learned Mother Queen Martha has a book I need to check out. Then, strolling around in Old Town Alexandria during a bit of free time, I came upon a fancy-schmancy cooking store where I learned of Mother Queen Maida, who apparently wrote the Bible of pie books. The store clerk raved and raved about the book, so I just had to order my very own copy.

And then, in the cutest children's boutique, I found this:

OMG. Crazy cute.

If not for the fact I had no way to get it into my already over-stuffed suitcase, I would've bought it right on the spot.

The trip left me pumped (for work) and primed (for pie making).

It couldn't have been that good.

To sweep the Fourth of July pie contest, I'll need to bake and submit four pies. Unfortunately, I only have one pie plate.

So, during a weekend of cleaning out closets and hauling various items to my local thrift store, I perused the bake ware to see if I could score some good pie pans.

I found this:

I doubt the pies lived up to the claim.

I considered getting it, but ultimately passed.

You know, because of bad ju-ju.

Party like you're Amish.

Our family likes to go camping and it just so happens that our favorite campground is located smack in the middle of an Amish community. We really enjoy seeing the horses and buggies, visiting the Amish grocery and learning about their culture. (My kids are simply fascinated by a life without technology.)

Each Saturday morning, two lovely Amish gals sell baked goods at the campground. A few weeks ago, I took one of my 11 year-old twin daughters with me to peruse the bakery.

As expected, there were all sorts of cakes, cookies and breads and everything looked delicious. Having spent my last bit of folding money on firewood and ice the night before, I had but one $5 bill to spend at the bake sale -- very disappointing since I spied several pies at the end of the table that would likely be out of my price range.

"Don't they take plastic?" my daughter asked as we stood in the long line of hungry campers.

"Nope," I responded, reminding her of the whole no technology thing. "These ladies don't have electricity in their homes, so they don't carry portable card scanners either."

Eventually the line began moving and we found ourselves at the front of the table, where I could study the pies.

It was easy to tell the different varieties. The bakers had cut slits for venting steam in the shape of various letters -- P for peach, A for apple. You just had to look at the golden brown crust to know which was which.

I was disappointed (but not surprised) to see the pies were out of my $5 price range, so we settled on a bag of maple rolls thinking they'd accompany our campfire breakfast of eggs and hash well.

Knowing the Amish are master bakers, I couldn't resist the urge to ask about the pies. Surely these pious ladies would be willing to share a pie-making tip or two with a newbie like me.

"Your pies look amazing. I'm new to pie making. Can you tell me, what's your secret for a good pie?"

The ladies looked at each other, surprised by my question. The younger one thought for a moment before giving her reply.

"Well," she said. "I suppose it's the lard. Good, cold lard makes the best crust."

I thanked her as we handed over the $5.

At that point, my daughter piped up.

"She's trying to win a contest," she said.

The ladies looked at each other in slight surprise. Obviously they don't want their Amish pie secrets used to clean house at a community baking contest.

I grabbed my daughter by the arm and yanked her away from the table, embarrassed.

"Thank you, we can't wait to dig into these rolls!" I called over my shoulder as we hurried back to our campsite.

At breakfast, we tasted the rolls. They were good, but crazy rich, making them a little hard to eat. I'm certain they were made with loads of butter and most likely a scoop or two of lard.

While I didn't get a chance to taste the lard-laden pie, it was helpful to study the golden crust and picture-perfect crimpped edges -- details I've filed away to refine my own technique.

I'm glad there are no Amish competitors in the Fourth of July pie baking contest -- not that contests are really their thing. And even if they were, beating the Yoder girl wouldn't be as satisfying, I'm sure.

Triple-berry peach pie - attempt #1

How did you spend last Friday night? At a movie? Hanging out with friends? Out to dinner at a fancy restaurant?

I spent mine researching peach pies.

I've been trying to decide what kind of fruit pie to learn to perfect and enter in the contest. The whole fruit category throws me off, because the only fruit pie I can think of -- that isn't a berry or apple (those are their own categories, remember?) -- is peach.

Well, I suppose other kinds of fruit pies include apricot, mango, plum and such -- but those aren't very common or popular. And peach just happens to be my favorite pie in the world. So my first inclination was to pursue the peach.

But, rather than just dive headlong into perfecting a peach pie, I thought I should at least do some research on what kinds of fruit pies typically win pie-baking contests.

Because after all, this isn't about favorites. It's about winning.

So I went online and had a tough time finding a winning fruit pie that wasn't an apple, berry or cream variation. And, to be perfectly honest, I found several instances where peach pies made decent showings, peach isn't really a front runner when being compared to Big Apple. (Apple seemed to win most often in all-around competitions.)

And my poor old memory is failing me when I try to recall the various kinds of pies submitted in last year's fruit category. I know there was a peach, but I'll be damned if I can remember the others.

So, unless I can get a hold of a judge or the event organizer, I decided to go with peach.

There are many variations on the peach pie and I'm pretty sure I want to do a peach with a little pizazz. After all, I think pizazz may be my secret ingredient.

So, this morning I decided to try my hand at a triple-berry peach pie. I know, berry is its own category, but berries can be incorporated as long as they're not the main ingredient.

I combined frozen fruit with sugar, butter and flour.

And brushed the top with egg wash to get that golden brown.

Pretty!

The pie was picture perfect, except where I didn't seal the seam on the top and lower crust and the filling oozed out some. Aside from that it had a golden, flaky crust and decent consistency inside.

I like the berry-peach combo, but I won't use raspberries in the recipe because of the seeds. The flavors were great, but I'm certain the judges don't want to have to pick seeds out of their teeth after the first bite. (I wouldn't.)

Plus, this pie would've pushed the rules on if it should be in the fruit or berry category. I'll need to increase the amount of peaches and lay off the berries next time.

In the end, it was a respectable pie, but it was no award winner.

Back to the lab!

Pie love

Even though I haven't posted in a while, I've still been busy in my quest to overthrow the long-established winners in my community pie-baking contest on the next Fourth of July.

And while my fingers haven't hit this keyboard in nearly a month, they've been plenty busy rolling dough. I've experimented with different kinds of doughs and baking techniques and I've learned a lot.

chocolate banana pudding pie

I've learned that pie weights really do work... and mine are simply a few cups of dried beans that I use over and over to keep crusts from rising up in the middle when prebaking (also called baking blind).

I've learned how thin to roll the dough (my rolling mat's guidelines help a ton) and also how to transfer a rolled dough onto a 9" pie plate. (That took some doing the first time.)

And, most important, I've learned to enjoy the process of pie making. I like that pies take less time than baking cakes and cookies -- and that people seem more impressed by pies than other baked goods. Pies are delicate and old-fashioned. Pies seem more thoughtful and artisan (if I can even use that word) than, say, a batch of cupcakes.

With each pie I bake, I enjoy the process more and more. (It helps that each pie I bake gets better and better.)

And so, I think I'm ready to shift my focus from crusts to fillings.

I have by no means mastered the art of the perfect pie crust, but I've found a recipe that I really like and will perfect its application as I explore various fillings.

cherry pie attempt #1

Because, and I'll be honest, it seems like a total disservice to dump a sorry-ass can of factory-produced pie filling into a shell that was prepared with so much time, love and attention. (See photo above.)

Where to start? Well, the four categories in the contest are cream, fruit, berry and apple. Because apples will be in season in a month or so, I'll hold off on those. Cream pies seem better suited for the winter months, so I'll focus my efforts of fruit for now. (Berries can wait, I guess.)

My favorite fruit pie of all time is peach, so I plan on developing a peach pie worthy of winning an award. I figure, if I'm going to spend hours and hours researching and (gasp) eating a fruit pie, it may as well be my favorite kind.

Although, maybe it'd make sense to learn which kinds of fruit pies historically win community pie contests...

Back to the library! It's time for more research!

PS - With all this pie baking and taste-testing, I've begun running. I'd prefer not to waddle up to that podium as I collect my awards next summer!

Research trip

I'm taking this pie thing very, very seriously. So much so, that I took last week off for a research trip to the Coast.

Seriously.

I visited the Carolina coast to study up on key lime pie and to interview my aunt, one of the best Southern cooks I know. (Oh yeah, and to visit a boatload of cousins and play on the beach.)

First, the key lime pie:

It was awesome. The perfect balance between tart and sweet. Creamy and decedent. Delicious. And lucky for me, my housemates insisted on keeping at least two in the fridge at all times the entire week. We had it for breakfast, dessert and even a mid-day snack.

I've decided that key lime pie -- good key lime pie -- actually tastes like summer.

As for my aunt, spending the afternoon with her and learning the tips and trade secrets that make her catering business a success, was pure bliss. I learned that pies used to be her specialty and that she was known for whipping one up whenever, wherever -- including once on a camping trip.

She also tipped me off to her favorite pie crust recipe. While she couldn't remember it off hand, she advised me to check out a certain cook book from the 1960s. She's sure it's been reprinted since then and suggested digging up one of the original copies if possible. It may take some time, but I'm up for the challenge.

And so, after 7 days in the South, I returned back to the Midwest tired and slightly sunburned, but eager to get in the kitchen and get back to baking.

I hadn't even unpacked my suitcase before I managed to test a new crust recipe. It's not my aunt's -- that one's going to take some time to dig up.

Instead, it's a recipe that I hoped would yield a slightly more buttery tasting crust.

A little blueberry pie filling and viola! A delicious little tart.

This crust is my favorite so far, although it was a little tough to work with. Next time I'll add more ice water to make it more pliable, preventing it from cracking and crumbling when I roll out the dough.

Tonight, my six year-old son came in the kitchen as I pulled the tart shells out of the oven.

"Mom," he said. "I think you're going to win this."

"I hope to win," I replied. "But it's going to take a lot of practice -- just like you practice playing baseball. I'll get better and better making pies, the way you've gotten better and better hitting, throwing and catching."

He smiled and turned to leave the kitchen, saying over his shoulder:

"I like your kind of practice. A lot."

Me too.

True confessions

OK, so my original account of how I got started on this pie thing is not entirely accurate.

I wrote earlier that my husband gently encouraged me to consider entering a pie in our local Fourth of July pie baking contest and that after some hesitation, I accepted the challenge.

I suppose that's how it could've happened.

To be honest, how it actually went down went a little something like this:

I read the schedule of events for our community Fourth of July celebration, saw the pie baking contest and wondered two things out loud:

1. Who enters these kinds of contests? (Frumpy house fraus, I'm sure.) 
2. What if a dark horse contender swooped in and turned our quiet community bake-off upside down?

My curiosity was piqued. I dragged my husband to the event where, after studying the entries up close during the observation period, we sat in the back row to watch judging. And to quietly heckle.

"If I had a pie in here, you can bet my presentation would blow the judges away," I bragged quietly, so only my husband could hear. "Forget doilies. They're boring. Sparklers, baby. I'd light my pie on fire to demonstrate true Fourth of July spirit."

My evil plan to sweep the competition began to emerge.

"Wouldn't it be something if a total unknown came in here and won all the medals?" I reckoned. "What if a new competitor knocked all those housewives and grandmas on their asses by stealing the show? That'd be something, really something."

As the judging proceeded, I began to scheme.

I could do it. If I focused hard and took an entire year to prepare, I could enter the pie to beat all pies -- hell, with enough practice, I could enter four pies and win all four categories!

My nutty little plan began to take shape and I got the visual of a great, white shark, swimming circles around its prey, ready to strike in a blink of an eye.

I could be that shark. I could be The Pie Shark. (Cue the music from Jaws.)

The whole walk home, I talked smack. I bragged about how I'd become a pie master and return to dominate the lowly competition.

Yeah, I said 'dominate.'

And so that's how it all really began. I'm not proud that my confidence is more like cockiness, but maybe that's the competitive spark one needs.

So the countdown is on. I've got eleven and a half months to perfect not one but four kinds of pies -- berry, fruit, apple and cream -- to dominate my community pie bake-off.

And dominate I will. Oh yes, I will.

It's dough time

Pie dough, it seems is deceptively simple.

There are three basic ingredients: flour, a fat (butter or shortening) and water. Some recipes also call for a pinch of salt.

How hard can it be?

The last time I asked that question, my son walked around here with a crooked haircut.

I decided to start my journey of self-education with the pie crust because I figure the crust is the foundation of any pie. It's the base on which all other ingredients must stand.

And so after reading up on the finer art of pie dough -- imagine my husband coming to bed to find me under the covers reading The Pie and Pastry Bible -- I decided to jump in and give it a shot.

I settled on a basic dough recipe and all sorts of useful nuggets from the book:

• Don't stretch the dough.
• Don't touch it too much.
• Keep the butter cold.
• Add only ice water to the dough.

After overcoming a minor setback...

Damn! Expired!

...I ran to the store, regrouped and started the dough.

All the books I've consulted thus far, stress the importance of keeping the dough cold. So much so, that I was totally freaked out to even touch it.

Seeing as it was 90 degrees this past weekend, I cranked the AC and measured 4 tablespoons of unsalted butter, careful to not touch it with my hands, lest I inadvertantly warm the butter.

I made three batches of dough, using the same recipe, but different mixing devices: I used a small hand-powered mixer, a fork and my food processor.


Fork method. Exhausting, but gave me the best feel for the dough.

Funny thing about that food processor. It's sat unused in a box for more than 10 years. It always seemed a little silly to lug it out for small jobs and I guess it never occurred to me to use it for the big jobs either. And so, when I read about using a food processor to make pie crusts, I rescued it from a box labeled "garage sale," cleaned it up and put it to use.



My new (old) best friend.

Just as the books said, you can make the same recipe over and over and it'll turn out different every time. Factors like heat and humidity in the air can impact if a crust will be light and flaky or hard as a rock.

And sure enough, they were right. My first two batches took more water, but were still dry and difficult to form into dough. But my last batch (made a day later) used less water and yielded a moist, pliable dough.

In the end, I much preferred using my food processor. It was quicker and cut the butter into the flour way better than I could have by hand.

Rather than making full-sized pies for testing purposes, I'm making individual-sized tarts. They're adorable, easily torn to pieces for proper inspection and their dainty sizes make me feel less guilty tasting recipes.

Because my focus is only on the crust, I made a batch of fresh strawberries in a light, sugary syrup and topped each tart with the sweet berry mixture and whipped cream. (Not that low-fat crap I typically buy, but the creamiest whipped cream I could find.)

I figured it was best to not scrimp.



Strawberry Cream Tarts

I shared the tarts with my husband and the older couple next door, asking them to rate the crust for taste and texture. 

It's important to note that I cannot rely on my husband's feedback alone to help me find the winning pie crust recipe. For starters, he's obligated to say nice things to me. Giving his honest opinion could backfire, which is why when I ask him how I look, he always responds, without hesitation, "You look great."

The man cannot give me his objective opinion. I won't allow it.

And so I must recruit additional taste testers, like my neighbors -- people who can be honest without fear of sleeping on the couch for suggesting I bake my pie shells a little longer.

At any rate, this past weekend, I learned a lot about the fundamentals of dough. I think I've got the general basics down and now need to keep practicing to yield consistent results, regardless of the dew point.

Research

I'm typically not a clock watcher, but yesterday at work, I just couldn't help it -- I was dying to begin researching the art of pie.

When quitting time eventually came, I rushed home to change clothes and grab my library card. A quick look at the mail made me chuckle:

I once thought they were the end-all, be-all of pies, but as I've grown older, I've liked their pies less and less, instead favoring a truly kick ass homemade number.

I headed to my neighborhood library -- ironically the very same one that hosts the Fourth of July pie baking contest that started this little adventure -- the very one I plan to dominate next year.

The selection was a little limited.

There were lots of books on cake and ethnic cooking, but I found only three books about pie.

I took them all.

So far, I've learned that working with pie dough is less driven by science than it is by the pie chef's gut. Pie dough has essentially three elements: liquid, flour and fat. And while there is science involved -- the fat has to be very cold to create a flaky crust -- intuition is key to knowing if the dough will be light and tender or wind up rock hard.

Each book suggests that practice, practice, practice is the only way one can master the art of pie dough.

I've told a select few friends and family members about my intentions. Lucky for me, those who live close enough are willing/able to help me taste-test all this practice.

I'm eager to dive in and get started. I think I'll begin with a few simple tarts so I can get used to working with pie dough.

I'll keep you posted.

Learning pie

I printed off the day's festivities from the village website.

8 a.m. -- Firecracker Four race
9 a.m. -- Kids' Bike Parade
11 a.m. -- Drop off pies for Pie Baking Contest
Noon -- Pie Judging
1:30 -- Bed Races
4 p.m. -- The Big Parade
Dusk -- Fireworks

My curiosity was piqued. I've gone to our neighborhood Fourth of July celebration ever since I was a kid, but this was the first time I noticed the pie baking contest on the schedule.

I'm a pretty good cook and I can bake a decent cake. But I have never mastered a pie.

Everyone loves pie, but not everyone can make a good one. Cakes and cookies are hard to screw up - unless (in my opinion) you add nuts, but pies...

Pies are a challenge.

For starters, the crust is intimidating, which is why I always buy pre-made crusts. Making crusts from scratch is hard. They're delicate and finicky. Easily torn and easily burned -- despite my attempts to fashion protective foil collars.

Then there's the filling. I've baked two apple pies in my life where I've peeled, cored and sliced the apples. Each time, my hands cramped, completing the tedious task. After that, I typically opted for store-bought pie filling. But those taste generic. Bland. Factory made.

I always wished I could make a good pie. But sadly, up until this point, it simply wasn't meant to be.

And so I was intrigued to see true pie masters, presenting their finest -- in a competition no less.

And after dragging my husband to the community room in the library, where the contest was held, I marveled at each pie, studying their composition, guessing their ingredients and marveling at the intricate designs.

"You could do this," my husband whispered in my ear.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"Seriously. You could make a pie as good as these."

His vote of confidence was endearing -- and ridiculously off mark. I suck at making pies. Period.

"My pies suck," I reminded him, without hesitation. "But still, it'd be cool to sweep in here, a total unknown -- a Cinderella story -- and win this competition."

I gave a wink, indicating my jest.

But as I sat there and watched the judging unfold, I questioned why I'd been so quick to dismiss my ability to learn to pie making. My self-doubt morphed into confidence -- and then cockiness.

Why couldn't I learn? Why shouldn't I try?

And with that, I made up my mind to Learn Pie -- to learn to craft the perfect crust, the most tantalizing blends of fresh fruit and berries, the smoothest, creamiest cream pies imaginable.

My first step will be to get a copy of the contest rules. I want to know the criteria by which each pie was judged.

Plus, I want to know which pies typically win pie baking contests. Is there a trend? Are certain flavors en vogue now? I have to know the answers so I don't waste my time learning pies that aren't prize worthy.

From there, I'll focus on a category: Berry.

Berries are in season, so now is the perfect time to explore this variety. Blueberries, boysenberries, raspberries, and the ever-popular triple berry pie. I'll have to test several to find my winner.

It's going to be a long, tough road. But I'm up for the challenge -- and hopefully my husband, neighbors and co-workers are up for the challenge of being my taste-testers. I'll need objective opinions and an unbiased rating system to weed through these pies.

And I'll need plenty of moral support. I almost deleted this post -- and this whole blog to boot -- several times while writing this, worrying and wondering if I'm biting off more than I can chew. (So to speak.)

So, we'll see how this goes. The great pie experiment. It'll either end in total failure -- or supreme Pie Shark victory.

Only time will tell.

364

That's how many days I have to learn how to make a pie.

Correction: That's how many days I have to learn how to make four pies, each worthy of winning the 2012 Fourth of July Pie Baking Contest in my neighborhood.

I've made pies before. I've bought refrigerated pie crusts and cans of various pie filling. I've followed directions on packages and have produced many picture-perfect pies.

But what they made up for in appearance, they lacked in flavor.

None made my husband's eyes roll back in bliss. None prompted anyone to ask for the recipe. None could ever be described as 'award winning.'

I'm tired of making sad-sack excuses for pie. I want my pies to be something special -- something people talk about.

I want to learn the proper art of pie making. And I want to enter next year's contest. And I want to win.

How, you ask?

Simple. I will become a student of pie.

In the next 364 days, I will research all things pie -- from crust composition, to flavor profiles to baking techniques. I will test recipe after recipe, eventually developing my own, unique pies.

I plan to grow more and more skilled with each pie I bake, eventually mastering one pie from each of the following categories: apple, berry, fruit and cream.

And next year, on July 4, 2012, I will enter one pie in each category, hoping to medal in each one.

Some might say it's a lofty goal. Many will doubt if I can do it. But if I take it pie by pie, bite by bite, I'm certain I can make a respectable showing.

And who knows?

Maybe, if I work hard enough in the next 364, I might sweep this sleepy Midwestern suburb's 2012 Fourth of July festivities. I could cause a veritable upset, taking first place in all four categories.

And so we begin. A woman with a dream. And a spatula.

This is my journey: From guppy to shark.

The Pie Shark.