Creamy and dreamy

Even though I haven't had much time to write about it, I've been having fun exploring the world of cream pies.

As I posted earlier, I have a tendency to pass on cream pies. (Uh, okay, I never eat cream pies.) My only experience with cream pies has been the ubber bland, plastic-tasting French Silk sold at my local pie-chain franchise.

Blech.

But now, challenged to learn the art of the cream pie, I've researched and whisked several marscapone cream cheese pies, various chocolate creams and just tonight, whipped up a good old-fashioned sugar cream.

And you know what? The more I make cream pies, the more I like them.

Cream pies are ridiculously simple to make and, unlike pies using fresh fruit that can vary in taste and texture, they turn out consistently delicious every time. Plus, you don't have to spend a lot of fancy ingredients to make a damn good cream pie.

Take the sugar cream.

You simply bring sugar, unsalted butter, cornstarch, and milk to a boil, add some vanilla and then pour the mixture into a baked crust.

Viola! It doesn't get easier than that.

And if not for the cream pie, I wouldn't have tried making homemade whipped cream.

I grew up eating Cool Whip and the occasional spray can stuff and thought it was fine -- until I tasted the real thing. Now, there's no way in hell I'll top one of my prize-winners with store-bought whipped cream.

Sacrilege!

Again, so easy, it's crazy. Beat heavy whipping cream and powdered sugar until soft peaks form. That's it. Two ingredients. I'll never use the store-bought stuff again.

The other thing I love about a cream pie is that you need to make it the day before you need it. It needs time to set in the fridge -- perfect for submitting multiple pies in this competition.

Where once I thought cream lacked steam, now I know that cream's a dream.

Hiatus

This past fall, I was averaging about a pie a week. I was a baking machine.

I'd get up early to make dough and, while making boo-boo faces at the baby, would chop up whatever fruit I had on hand to complete the pie. Any ounce of free time was spent making or researching pie.

Then life got in the way.

My day job (working full time in corporate communications) got super busy and my night/early morning job (being a mom to four) also had me hopping.

On top of that, for nearly three months straight, at least one family member was sick. The kids' school and church commitments had us running around like nut balls and the frenzy of the holidays just about pushed me over the edge.

Pie making moved to the bottom of my to-do list.

And besides glancing occasionally at the countdown app on my phone (184 days until the contest, by the way), I nearly forgot about my quest altogether -- so much so, when the holidays rolled around, instead of making a pie, I tried my hand at my first-ever chocolate cheesecake, which was ahh-mazing. So chocolaty, so rich -- pure heaven on a fork. (But I digress.)

So now with the holidays squarely behind me and work/kid stuff seeming more manageable, I look to the year ahead, renewing my commitment to sweep into that Fourth of July bake-off and kick some serious ass.

I'm going to approach the remaining six months methodically:

In January, I will experiment more in the cream pie category with the goal of perfecting a chocolate cream pie with raspberry coulis (my new favorite thing).

February through March, I need to get back to berries and find the perfect, not-too-seedy, berry combination.

April through May, it's do or die for finding the winning fruit pie submission.

And in June, I'll refine my apple pie recipe (it's pretty close now).

When I get back to work on Tuesday, I'll put in for vacation the week of the contest. I can't let a silly little thing like work get in the way.

Yes sir. It's gonna be a busy year.

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.