Melissa’s Pie

My paternal grandmother, Geraldine, made awesome pie crust.  The grandchildren would dance around for the little cookies she made with dough scraps, jockeying for position to score the first one out of the oven, gladly accepting the trade-off of burned little hands and tongues.

My mom makes great pies.  Lemon meringue, apple, and her world-famous pecan are only a few.  But her crusts come from the supermarket’s refrigerated section.

I always assumed that I didn’t have the patience to make crust from scratch, so on the infrequent occasions that I needed pastry, I used pre-made.

Evidently, they’ve been doing this for a long time…

But as I learned to cook, pie became my secret shame.  There’s nothing wrong with using pre-made, but not knowing how to make pastry was a hit to my ego, and a milestone I should have already passed.

Then I saw Melissa D’Arabian, a TV chef I admire greatly, make pastry dough on Food Network.  It looked do-able.  A French master baker/chef said that her crust was just as good as he could do.  So I tried and it worked like a charm.

I’ve made it probably 100 times since then and never had any problems.  It works great for single and double crust pies, and the hand pies that come from her dough are so pretty and tasty, I feel like I should pay someone for such glorious eats.

Melissa-inspired pie crust

pie crust

1 cup butter (2 sticks), cubed and chilled

2 ½ cups + ½ tablespoon cake flour

1 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons very cold vodka (Vodka is tasteless in the cooked crust.  But feel free to add another kind to lend flavor to the finished product; bourbon for pecan or apple for example, or amaretto for peach pie.)

5-8 tablespoons ice water

Put the butter, flour, and salt in the food processor, and pulse lightly just until the mixture resembles wet sand. Add vodka then water, 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing briefly after each spoonful. Keep adding liquid until the dough just begins to gather into larger clumps.  Pour dough onto flat surface and lightly knead just until it comes together.

Divide dough in half and transfer into re-sealable plastic bags and pat into disks. Let rest in refrigerator for 30 minutes. Or freeze for later. 

Before baking, chill formed dough for 30-60 minutes.  Bake at 425 degrees until golden, timing depends on size and shape of product.

cropped-pc090039.jpg

Chicken pies that I made with homemade magic crust.

I add vodka to lower the chances gluten developing.  Gluten is the protein that makes bread dough stretchy.  It also makes for a disappointingly chewy pie crust.  The secret of a light flaky crust is to stop kneading the second you can press a portion of dough in your fist and it keeps its shape.

And you want the crust to be cold when it hits the hot oven.  This accomplishes two things.  The butter will melt all at once, and the steam that is produced will create little air pockets, which contributes to a flaky mouth-feel.  And there will be very little shrinkage, so the pie crust won’t retreat down the sides of the pie pan.

The kids rode around the neighborhood on my old pastry dough.

I have, in the distant past, produced pastry dough that was so overworked and tough the only thing it was good for was the sole of a tennis shoe or a pencil eraser.  So I can’t emphasize strongly enough how shocked and delighted I was the first time I made tender, flaky pie dough.

And I owe it all to my cooking crush Melissa.  I figured if it was her procedure, there’s no way I could fail.

Melissa D’Arabian, America’s kitchen sweetheart.

Thanks for your time.

Hey jalousie

Jalousie is a French word, meaning louvers.  It’s also the technical name of this week’s dish.

But I have given it an American twist, used my writer’s prerogative, and renamed it.

This new recipe is now called “Saloon Doors”.

I learn the oddest and most arcane things writing these essays each week.  I should rent myself out for trivia games.  For today’s topic I did a little research on those swinging louvered doors festooning saloon entrances in Western movies.

And discovered they’re pretty much a Hollywood invention.

Think about it, having half doors swinging in the wind would have been a horrible idea for someplace like Montana in January.  And using those doors would have left no manner of securing the saloon when closed—which it did for at least a few hours every day (Miss Kitty needs her sleep, y’all).

But they make for very dramatic entrances of black-hatted villains and white-hatted heroes into the saloon and thus Tinsel Town has implanted them irrevocably into our collective psyche.

Anyway, back to my own, edible, clichéd, saloon doors.  The recipe calls for puff pastry, manipulated, stuffed and baked.  So once you know the procedure, you can fill it to your taste and occasion.  As a jumping-off place I’ll give you four ideas for filling; breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.  Where you go from there is up to you.

This recipe is made with frozen puff pastry, found in most supermarkets, and made by layering dough with butter, rolling, and refolding, countless times.  This gives it up to a thousand layers.  The water in the butter evaporates while baking.  This produces steam which gives the puff.

I offer a few pieces of advice.  Try to purchase all-butter pastry; it tastes and cooks better.  Let it thaw overnight in the fridge, or if not possible, on the counter until it can be unfolded and worked.  If you seal the edges, you will not get left.  So don’t get egg wash on them; it’ll glue them shut.  When cutting; cut, don’t press.  When sealing the two pieces, be gentle.  Egg wash, then cut the slats, so the steam can escape.

Saloon doors

(Makes 2 complete pastries)

2 sheets puff pastry, thawed

1 egg, lightly beaten

Preheat oven to 425.

Cut each sheet in half.  Lay out two pieces on parchment-lined cookie sheet.  Spread filling on each, leaving a ¾ inch border.  Brush beaten egg on naked border.  Fill. Top each piece with the other sheet.  Lightly press border to seal.  Brush egg on top layer.  Leaving ¾ inch border, cut 1-inch horizontal slats down the length of each piece.

Bake at 425 until the pastry begins to brown and puff.  Lower oven to 375 and bake until dough is dry, crisp and deep golden-brown.

Slice and serve.  Makes 4-6 servings.

Breakfast Filling:

breakfast door

Scramble 10 eggs.  Season.  Cook 6 slices bacon until crisp. Spread eggs onto bottom sheets of pastry, leaving ¾ inch border.  Sprinkle on crumbled bacon and chopped fresh parsley.  Top with pinched off pieces of goat or Boursin cheese.  Cover with second piece, brush with egg wash, and cut slats, leaving border.

Bake according to directions above.

Lunch:

lunch door

Sauté leeks and mushrooms until browned and dry.  Spread on pastry.  Sprinkle on julienned prosciutto.  Using a potato peeler, scrape ribbons of Parmesan cheese over top.  Lay on top pastry, prepare, and bake.

Dinner:

dinner door

Spread thin layer of pesto on bottom of sheets.  Cover with shredded rotisserie chicken.  Dot with sun-dried tomatoes and mozzarella cheese bits.  Finish and bake.

Dessert:

dessert door

Spread half of a jar of black cherry preserves on each sheet.  Cut one 8-ounce block of cream cheese into small squares.  Top preserves with cream cheese, and dot with toasted, chopped pecans.   Cover, finish, and bake.  Sprinkle cooled tart with powdered sugar, and serve with whipped cream, or ice cream.

These are easy, but look impressive.  If you often have unexpected guests, it’s not a bad idea to keep a box of puff pastry in your freezer.  You could fill them with anything that you have on hand.  And when you carry out one of these puppies they’ll be so fancy looking, you’ll make Martha Stewart look like a slacker.

Thanks for your time.

A spicy tale

Boy, I raised one thoughtful spawn.

Very close, very old friends of The Kid just had a baby (not quite one of those new year babies—they missed it by about 36 hours).

But since it’s not possible to wrap up sleep and deliver it all tied up with a pretty bow, my child did the next best thing; the gift of time was chosen.

Homemade wild rice chicken chowder and a lentil stew were made, along with something sweet with which to nibble.  The chowder and stew were prepared and are in the chill chest in freezer bags.  But because of The Kid’s work commitments, I volunteered to bake and pack up the cookies.

When the couple was asked for their confectionary preference, a ginger molasses cookie was requested.  Since this particular type is not in our family’s repertoire, an internet search was made.

I found a recipe that I felt hit most of the notes, and started with that.  Then I fleshed it out by altering flavor and techniques.

I used a vanilla bean and vanilla extract.  The caviar I added to the butter.  I tossed the empty pod into my sugar canister.  The original recipe, for some reason, never called for nutmeg.  I added it.  I also added nutmeg to the rolling sugar.I used a cookie scoop to portion the dough, instead of just a spoon.  Using one is quicker, easier, and makes all the cookies the same size, which means they all cook at the same time.

I leave you with one crucially important piece of advice.

Do not crowd the cookies in the pan while baking.  And for the love of all that is holy, do not rush them into the oven by cutting short the dough refrigeration time.  They will spread out all over the sheet, and not set up correctly.  I did this, and had to throw away the first batch of nine (See, I crowded the sheet pan).  They tasted really good, but were too thin and gooey to live.

Chewy ginger molasses cookies

ginger cookies 2

1 vanilla bean

1½ cups butter, softened

2 cups granulated sugar + more for rolling

½ cup molasses

1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

2 eggs

4 ½ cups all-purpose flour

4 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon ground ginger

¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

1 ½ teaspoons salt

 DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Split the vanilla bean, scrape caviar onto butter.  Set aside at room temp to soften.

Whisk together flour, soda, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and salt. Set aside.

With electric mixer, beat together softened butter and 2 cups sugar on medium for 1 minute until light and fluffy.  Add in eggs, molasses, vanilla extract, and beat on medium-low until combined.

Gradually add in dry ingredient mixture and beat until fully incorporated.

Using a medium (about 2 tablespoon capacity) cookie scoop, portion out all the dough.

Refrigerate scoops for 1 hour then remove and them roll into balls.  Return to fridge and let chill another 30-45 minutes.

Fill a small bowl with about 1/2 cup sugar and a pinch of nutmeg, and roll four balls in one at a time until they’re completely coated. Place on parchment-covered cookie sheet and bake for 5 minutes, spin the pan 180 degrees then bake for 5 more until they begin to slightly crack on top (They’ll crack more while cooling.).  Remove from the oven and transfer cookies, still on parchment to wire racks to cool. Bake off the next four.  Store in a sealed container for up to 1 week.

Makes about 2 ½ dozen.

I’ve never been a ginger snap, molasses cookie kind of girl.  But I have to admit, when I tasted one of the rejects, I was really surprised.  Yes, they are very spicy.  But extremely tasty, too.  These are more of a grown-up cookie for somebody who wants less sweet and more sassy to their desserts.  They would also be really, really good cookies with which to make ice cream sandwiches, say with some butter pecan, or peach ice cream.

And again, do not rush these into the oven.  They must be very cold and hard before hitting the heat or you will have delicious manhole covers.

This is bad.  You do not want this.

Thanks for your time.

 

 

Crying at the party

A potato salad party.

Perfect resting place for mayo.

Yes.

A pork chop party.

Yes.

A buttermilk biscuit party.

Yes.

I would be much happier to attend any of those parties instead of a pizza party.  What is it about pizza that automatically makes it into a party?  Even ice cream only rates ‘social’ status.  Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person on the planet who doesn’t adore pizza.

Um…not so much.

I don’t hate it.  Every year or so I get a craving for classic, red-sauced, mozzarella cheesed, crispy-crusted pizza.  And if that’s all that’s available to eat, I wouldn’t go hungry.  But the thought of a big gooey slice doesn’t move me.  And I certainly don’t like it enough to eat bad pizza pie; which believe me, abounds.

I do really like a couple of specifically dressed pies, but Petey insists that they really aren’t pizza.

When the planets align and I’ve shown up on the right day, Whole Foods has a pizza that I love.  When it’s on the menu, I cannot leave the store without a slice.  In fact, I recently lucked out and it’s what I had for dinner tonight.

It’s carbonara.  Done right, spaghetti carbonara is a heavenly experience.  The traditional sauce is deceptively simple.  Four ingredients: pancetta, garlic, Parmesan cheese, and eggs.  It’s much easier to make badly than to do right, then you end up with scrambled eggs, or watery, flavorless despair.

Done right.

bc

Done oh so very wrong.

Whole Foods’ pizza uses an Alfredo sauce base, so skips the hazards that the eggs represent.  It’s pure, cheesy comfort food.

When I worked on Saturdays for Bosco at his bookstore I would order something to be delivered.

About half of those Saturdays I would order from Amante Pizza.  What lured me in is their ginormous selection of toppings.  Nine cheeses and thirteen meats.  Seven sauces and only one is red, not counting salsa.  Too many fruits and veggies to count—they actually have pecans.  Pecans on a pizza.  Who knew?

That’s the great thing about pizza.  Everybody can have their own pizza, and everybody gets to choose their own toppings.  But at restaurants each extra topping start at around a dollar, so pizzas for a crowd can get expensive quick.

So what’s a family on a budget supposed to do?

Do it at home.  Yes, at home.  I know, making crust can be a pain, and take hours.

But, I did some research, and many, many places sell raw pizza dough to take home and tart up yourself.  Both white and wheat.  Everywhere from Harris Teeter to my old fave, Amante.

And in case you’re a pizza pie apostate like me, here is my very special Amante order to get your own ideas percolating.

Now this is pizza pie.

Heretical pizza

Base:

½ cup olive oil

4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

4 sprigs rosemary

1 bunch basil, ripped, stems included

Salt and pepper to taste

Heat all ingredients in small saucepan until fragrant.  Remove from heat and allow to cool.  Strain.

Toppings:

1 cup mozzarella (fresh cheese in liquid, not bagged and pre-shredded)

1 cup broccoli florets, steamed tender-crisp

2 tablespoons oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, julienned

½ small red onion, sliced thinly

4 ounces mushrooms, sliced

1 small zucchini, sliced

1 chicken breast, cut into bite-sized chunks

Put cookie sheet or pizza stone into oven and preheat to 450 for at least 20 minutes.  Sauté mushrooms and zucchini until softened in a bit of basil-rosemary oil.  Remove veg from skillet and place on paper towel to get rid of moisture, then add chicken to pan.  Cook until browned.

Stretch dough to make a 3/4 inch thick, 8-9 inch circle.  Brush with oil, then drop dollops of cheese all over it.  Scatter on rest of ingredients.  Season.

Place pizza onto stone or sheet.  Turn oven to low broiler, and cook for 12 minutes.  Then turn oven back to 450 and cook 2 minutes more.

Remove from oven and let rest for 3-5 minutes before slicing.  Serves one, but that’s the point.

So I guess I do like my own version of pizza.  But I still don’t think it deserves a party devoted to it.  Just off the top of my head, what if instead we started having bacon parties?

With bells on, I’ll be there.

I’ll RSVP that sucker right now.

Thanks for your time.