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.