The pie diaries

I owe my knowledge of all things culinary to my dad. He is my favorite chef. He taught me how to scramble an egg and conquer Julia Child’s boeuf bourguignon. But the one bit of knowledge he has yet to bestow upon me is the art of pie-making. I may be biased when saying this, but no one makes pie like my dad. Strawberry, sweet potato, chocolate a la rum, cherry, peanut butter–Oh the peanut butter!–he’s mastered them all. He still thinks his lemon meringue will never be as good as his mother’s, but anyone who’s had his lemon meringue would scoff at that statement.  (Unlike myself, my dad is unbearably modest.)

Like any good chef, he has a signature pie: apple. It’s simple, fulfilling and classic. My dad has taught me two very important things about preparing food. 1. Cooking is best done to Aretha Franklin, and 2. Apple pie can make any meal better. This morning I made my own version of the American favorite. Fearful of becoming the co-worker who never contributes to the numerous spreads of food that always fill the lunch room, I knew I needed to make up for it at our Thanksgiving dinner. I immediately decided I would bring an apple pie even though I didn’t own a pie plate…or a rolling pin…and had never made a pie. Something else my dad taught me: Be fearless in the kitchen.

Thankfully, my pie turned out quite well, saving me an emergency run to Prestis to buy two dozen chocolate cannolis. I didn’t use my dad’s recipe. (I’m fearless but I don’t know if I want to mess with perfection.) The cream cheese I used in the crust gave it a soft rich taste which balanced out the tartness of the Granny Smith apples. By the end of the night, my pie was gone and I was basking in the warm glow of my co-workers’ compliments. (I told you I wasn’t modest.)

Next, I think I’ll try this recipe for another one of my favorite pies, and surprisingly one my father hasn’t made.

Assembling the ingredients.

I didn't realize how much six apples was until my pie got too big for its crust.

 

The finished product. What it lacks in presentation it makes up for in taste.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One Response to The pie diaries

  1. Pingback: Comfort is fried chicken | This is fact not fiction

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