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.