I don’t know how I started a food blog. That was never my intent. But here I am snapping photos of every meal, dreaming up new recipes to share with a small collection of folk who follow my humble blog. It’s an odd thing, this blogging. But it’s very holistic for me, and very natural. Most unlike baking pie.
As I mentioned in my post about our Pie Party, I discovered that my adventures in pie did not come without tears or tantrums. Truly, pie is an art. And should anyone excel at it, they must realize the grandiosity of their craft. It should not be taken lightly.
My horror of an experience started with the mini apple pies and lasted all the way through the special crisp I tailor made for a non-dairy, gluten-free friend. That is to say the cinnamon pumpkin tart and the harvest peach pie suffered blunders, as well. Honey Dude, on the other hand, made two picture-perfect pies, right on cue. No struggles, no stress. Being the solid, gracious husband that he is, he was there to encourage me and laugh with me, and sign up for about four rounds of dishes to keep my tears at bay.
The mini apple pies were such a great idea! In theory. They were a good filler, rounding out the pie board with something cute and unique. I found them on Yum for Tum, one of my fave food blogs. Her photos made them look lovely and flaky and just perfect. I decided to make them the day before the party and made the mistake of covering them overnight, locking in the moisture and thus losing the flake, replacing it with what looked like chewy crust. Not good. Of course, it’s all speculation because I didn’t try them (they weren’t gluten-free).
[For the sake of the party, I was allowed a “free pass” from the cleanse. My only restriction: gluten and peanuts.]
I also struggled to bond the top crust with the bottom crust, being so small and hard to manage. In all truth, I just stuffed the top crust down along the sides, pressing the dough together with my fingers. It was not a good method. They looked a little goofy in the end.
For the fuss factor, I think I’ll probably veer away from these little guys in the future. If I’m going to make pie, I’ll make PIE. A regular, classic 8″ pie with a top crust or crumble, or maybe one day, a lattice top (Lord help me!).
I didn’t even go into the troubles of making/rolling out/transferring the dough or the failed pumpkin puree. I didn’t touch the gluten-free pie crust debacle or the tapioca balls that failed to soften, resulting in bites full of pebbles. Let’s just say, I’m now determined to travel to the world of perfect pie. If not for Beth Howard’s lovely memoir, I probably wouldn’t be in this place. But her adventures in pie-making were just so… dreamy. Plus, she left a few recipes in the book’s end pages. A good start, at least.