Pie

Turkey Day? No. At the In-Laws it’s Pie Day, with a side of turkey.

Pictured, from top

My pecan pie
Backup pumpkin A
Backup pumpkin B
My butternut squash pie
Backup cherry pie
Backup pecan pie
Arzanna-fay’s pumpkin pie
My apple pie
Arzanna-fay’s cherry pie

(Karen brought those backup pies, because who knows, we might not have enough pie. Not pictured, the two backup pies Gary brought. One apple and one pumpkin.)

My pies were made in a pie class I took Wednesday. They are from scratch, and I have to say, in a taste-off with Arzanna-fay’s Pillsbury crust, my crust wins in texture but loses miserably in flavor.

I learned two things in pie class.

I. At one point a grandmotherly lady (known at one time for her pie crust and trying to get back the mojo) absent-mindedly picked up her dough and began to knead it. You would have thought she was strangling a fetal baby seal the way the teacher reacted. NOOOOO WHAT ARE YOU DOING DON’T KNEAD THE DOUGH. (Granted, the instructor had been up since 3 am waiting for her turkey to reach room temperature. She said that was the secret: start cooking at room temperature. (“Bacteria? They all die when you cook the turkey, you know.”)) I was so afraid of touching the dough I didn’t crimp my edges.

II. The instructor and the class had to get 30 pie crusts made, filling prepped, and pies baked in under four hours. I waited in line to roll out my first dough (or rather “someones first dough” because after we practiced making dough they were all lumped together). I watched people hesitantly roll the dough. I decided I would roll out my dough with confidence.

I dusted my surface with flour with this thing:

I’ve seen them but never knew what they were. You squeeze and the spiral opens, you grab some flour, then squeeze to release the flour.

Just as I made my first confident pass I was overtaken by a horrible coughing spell, and by the time I recovered, the instructor stepped in, rolled out the dough and flipped it in the pan. I understand, gotta get the pies out, no dilly-dallying.

After doing the prep work for the next pie, it was time to roll out the dough, and again I was overwhelmed by a coughing spell. Again, my dough was rolled and put in a pan while I was doubled over. Someone got me a glass of water. So, next time, I had my glass of water and was ready for the coughing. The class was waiting to see if I coughed all over my dough once again.

I picked up the sifter and realized I’d been felled by breathing the flour into my lungs. This time I clamped my hand over my mouth while I sifted the four on the surface and AHAH! No attack! I got my pie almost rolled out but not quite in the pan before the instructor determined I had an uneven crust that needed repair.

That was the bottom crust of the apple pie. I used my hands to get the flour on the surface the next time and had no trouble. And, even better, I was able to roll AND flip all on my own.

The apple pie was the best of the ones I made, no question. Sadly, the crust was made with half shortening and half unsalted butter, and I don’t know if I’ve been eating crusts made with HFCS, lard, and MSG, but it didn’t taste like anything.

When I got home I made another dough, dusted, rolled and flipped it all on my own, and made Gary a cherry pie.

[Tick tock, Passage Of Time, moments later]

… A cherry pie that Gary proclaimed the worst pie he’s ever had and demanded it be thrown in the trash. I snuck some crust first, and the first bit was good, but the second tasted like nothingness. Like sushi, it had no real taste; it was all about the texture.

I checked How To Cook Everything, and the recipe was the same as the one from Pie Class. However, it ended with, “If you would like a more flavorful pie crust” (YES) “double the sugar and add an egg yolk.” So my next crust will be like that, and if it’s no good then it’s back to Pillsbury.