As Long As There Is Pie

Today, I thought it would be nice to talk about pie.

Actually, I’m lying. Today, I thought it would be nice to eat some pie. Everything else is optional, as long as there is pie around. I’ve sort of developed a thing recently for making pies…in particular, hand pies, where I fill all-butter puff pastry with fresh summer fruit. So this weekend, when the produce and pastry stars aligned, filling our CSA box with three of the most perfect and pie-friendly fruits, I knew exactly what to do. 

Under ordinary circumstances, I prefer to make my own dough, but when it comes to summer and the rarity of sun in Seattle I like to get in and out of the kitchen as quick as possible. Plus, let’s face it: pie dough has total attitude- it can be fickle, and uncooperative, and a complete pain in the butt.  So…I cheated. I am not sorry. I needed some pie.

When using store-bought puff pastry, the trick, I’ve learned, is to buy the good stuff. Look at the ingredients, it should say this: flour, butter, salt, sugar, water. Anything else usually contains mystery fats and, well, mystery fats are icky. Good puff pastry will crackle in your mouth and leave shards of crispy crust on your fingers and, most likely, on your pants. Have no fear.

Also, if you play your cards right, your pies just might come out looking like they’ve been attacked by a vampire.

Aside from that, these hand-pies are charming and rustic and everything a proper pie should be: tender, flaky with butter, and loaded with soft farm fresh fruit. I suppose it should also be noted that they make a terrific late night companion when your husband gets called back into work. I won't say that I polished off the bunch last night but I will say this: midnight, home alone, bad dream, warm oven, buttery pastry, jammy fruit, no fork, no plate, no evidence.

Summer Fruit Hand-Pies

I used cherries, apples, and peaches but feel free to use whatever fruits you have on hand. I use the ratio of:  1 tablespoon cornstarch, and 1/3 cup sugar for every 1 cup of fruit. I also chose to keep my fruits separate but I’ll bet mixing and matching fruits is good too.

For the Cherry Filling:

1/3 cup sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

½ tablespoon butter

1 cup pitted cherries

For the Apple Filling:

1/3 cup sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

½ tablespoon butter

1 cup apples, peeled and cut into small chunks

Pinch of cinnamon

For the Peach Filling:

1/3 cup sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

½ tablespoon butter

1 cup peaches, peeled and cut into small chunks

½ vanilla bean, split lengthwise

For the Pastry:

2 sheets puff pastry, thawed in refrigerator

1 egg white

1 tablespoon water

Raw sugar for sprinkling

To make the cherry filling:

Combine the sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl and whisk together until combined. Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add cherries and sugar/cornstarch mixture and stir until combined. Cook cherries until syrupy, bubbling, and tender. Pour into a bowl and set aside to cool.

Make the apple filling:

Combine the sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl and whisk together until combined. Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add apples and sugar/cornstarch mixture and stir until combined. Cook apples until syrupy, bubbling, and tender. Pour into a bowl, stir in cinnamon to taste, and set aside to cool.

Make the peach filling:

Combine the sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl and whisk together until combined. Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add peaches and sugar/cornstarch mixture and stir until combined. Cook peaches until syrupy, bubbling, and tender. Pour into a bowl. Using a paring knife, scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean into the peach mixture and stir until combined. Set aside to cool.

Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, roll out pastry into a large, thin rectangle. Using a sharp knife, cut dough into evenly sized rectangles (about 6” x 5”). Whisk egg white and water in a small bowl and set aside for egg wash. Place 2-3 tablespoons of fruit mixture in the center of the bottom half of dough. Fold top of rectangle over the fruit mixture so that the two ends meet. Crimp edges with a fork to seal. Using a sharp knife, cut a few slits in top of pie to vent. Place pie on prepared baking sheet and repeat with remaining dough and filling.

Brush tops of pies with the egg wash and sprinkle with raw sugar. Chill in the refrigerator for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 375°. Bake pastries until the tops and bottoms are golden and browned, about 40 minutes. Let cool for 5-10 minutes and then transfer to a wire baking rack to cool completely.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

All's Well That Ends Well

First, let me tell you how Monday was supposed to go and, just so you know, it was going to be lovely. I had the day off work and the weather was typical for June in Seattle, which is to say, chilly, grey, and a little misty. The previous morning I had stumbled across a batch of early season Rainier cherries, way more than Jimmy and I could eat. So given the aforementioned weather and the abundance of cherries, it seemed the perfect day to try my hand at jam making.

Looking forward to my quiet day at home, I threw on the new Bon Iver album [which, just so you know, is amazing] and busied myself with not only pitting the cherries, but smashing up the pits to retrieve the almond-like center. Two hours later- jars sterilized, vanilla bean split, cherries pitted, sugared, and boiled- the jam was done. I poured it out, somehow managing to get more of it on my walls, cupboards, ceiling, and self than in the actual jars, and then I tasted it. And, I’m sorry, but this is the bad part: it was horrible. Terribly tart, yet somehow overly sugary, and the texture, well, lets just say it was a stunning approximation to that of a plastic shoe. I wasted two whole pounds of precious cherries on that sorry mess. TWO. It was so sad.

But all’s well that ends well, so I’ve heard, and after getting a good pout out of my system, I washed down my remorse with a big glass of rosé, and pretty much don’t remember having any complaints after that.  All this is to say, well, I have no idea.  I went off on a tangent about my adventures in jam-making, when what I really should have been discussing was this pasta:

With a delicious balance of salty prosciutto, creamy fettuccine, and loads of fresh produce- it essentially speaks for itself. And, unlike the jam incident, ahem, it was an undeniable hit. It’s heady, hearty, and comfortable- and it’s just what you’ll want to eat at the end of a long summer day.

Creamy Fettuccine with Prosciutto, Asparagus, Mushrooms, and Peas

Slightly adapted from Nancy Verde Barr via Bon Appetit, April 2001

8 ounces asparagus, trimmed and cut into ½-inch lengths

¼  cup unsalted butter

4 ounces prosciutto, cut into thin strips

8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced

1 cup fresh or frozen peas, thawed if frozen

1 cup cream

1 pound fettuccine

2 ounces grated Parmesan cheese

¼ cup fresh chives, chopped

Cook asparagus in a large pot of salted boiling water until just tender, about 3 minutes. Transfer asparagus to a separate bowl and set aside. Reserve water in pot for cooking pasta.

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add prosciutto and stir for about 1 minute. Add mushrooms and saute until golden, about 3 minutes. Add asparagus, peas, and cream, and simmer until cream has been reduced by about 1/3, around 2-5 minutes. Turn off heat.

Meanwhile, bring reserved water in pot to a boil. Add pasta, cook until desired tenderness, and drain. Add pasta to skillet with sauce, toss to coat over low heat, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and stir in cheese. Transfer to a large bowl, sprinkle with chives, and serve.

Last week, over the course of 72 hours, I ate just about two pounds of cherries. I’m pretty sure I’ve done crazier things in my life, but I really can’t think of them right now.

It’s just that I can’t help myself- I find the start of cherry season to be intoxicating. And, here in Seattle, cherries are our first reminder that warmer weather is finally on the way. (Also- if you have ever wondered as to whether or not eating too many cherries can give you a tummy ache, well yes…yes, it can.)

When cherry season/summer begins rolling into town, one of my favorite go-to desserts is Julia Child’s Cherry Clafoutis. Traditionally, cherry clafoutis are made with un-pitted cherries, but seeing as I have a strong connection to my molars, I went ahead and removed the pits.

Pitting cherries is sort of like slow torture…without the death.   But then, at the end, you get dessert, so I promise- it’s worth your time.

Plus, this small inconvenience is all the trouble this dessert will cause you- you’ll see what I mean when you stick it in the oven and the topping begins to go puffy and pleasingly brown, chewy in some parts, crisp in others, and soft and custardy where it meets the sweet tartness of the cherries underneath.

Clafoutis, I find, take well to any number of fresh fruits you decide to throw their way and the vanilla laced custard and silken texture are perfectly suited to a warm evening, making it a dessert that we’ll be coming back to all summer long.

Head on over to Honest Cooking to get the recipe and say hi!

A Bit Crazy

I have long entertained a little fantasy that weekends are relaxing. I imagine myself waking up late, putting on a pot of coffee, making waffles, and sitting around reading magazines before heading out to have a glass of wine with friends.

Unfortunately, this is not how I roll. Also, I don’t have a waffle maker so I’m not sure where that particular piece of the fantasy developed. In any case, the majority of the time I manage to cram way too much stuff into my 48 hours and somehow things that are in theory supposed to be relaxing become stressful. However, this past weekend, thank the heavens, was downright dreamy. The sun came out and we slept in and had late morning cocktails outside(!). We ran into friends, walked around Green Lake, and somehow ended up playing miniature golf 45 minutes outside of Seattle.

I also made salted caramel ice cream, and we went to a bar-b-que, and my friend Molly taught me how to make popcorn on the stovetop and now I can’t stop making it. Seriously, I’ve eaten enough popcorn in the past three days to permanently alter my genetic makeup. Does everyone know about this? Or did you, like me, think you needed a microwave to make popcorn? 

It’s so, so easy. You simply dump a few glugs of oil in a saucepan, enough to cover the bottom, and then you pour in a thin layer of kernels. Cover the saucepan and wait for the corn to begin popping. Once the first few pieces pop you occasionally shake the pan to make sure the popcorn doesn’t burn and then, when the popping slows down, you pour it into your serving bowl of choice and butter/season it as you like. If you want to see more on this method there are "how to" videos all over the internet, which begs the question of why I haven't seen this before, but oh well, I'm slow to learn. 

I’m a big fan of plain old buttered and salted popcorn but this weekend I threw a little rosemary into the mix and that was nice too. It was herby and salty and just perfectly savory. It's easy too, in case your weekends, like mine, tend to be, well, a bit crazy.

Rosemary Scented Salt

This recipe makes way more salt than you’ll need for the popcorn but I like to keep some on hand for seasoning other things like meat and veggies. You can make more or less depending on how much you think you’ll use. Also, just so you know, a jar of this stuff makes for a great gift.

2-3 sprigs fresh rosemary
3 Tablespoons good salt, such as Fleur-de-sel

Remove rosemary leaves from stem and combine with the salt in a food processor until the rosemary is minced and well blended with the salt. Season meat, veggies, or buttered popcorn as desired. Salt can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature.

Worthy of Note

Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way right now: the granola recipe we are going to talk about today, it’s not a fancy granola recipe. It doesn’t contain the usual variety of nuts and seeds, or different sweeteners, or even spicing. It’s a just the essentials, bare-bones kind of granola- it calls for only a few basic ingredients and can be made in less than 10 minutes in your favorite skillet (thanks Carrie! thanks Jeff!). And, it is fantastic.

There are, of course, a million recipes out there for granola, and it seems that everyone has their favorite version, but this one, I think, is worthy of note, both for its utter simplicity and its perfectly caramelized taste and texture. It’s homely and humble with just the right amount of sweetness, and it’s deeply, deeply reassuring.

The night I made it for the first time we fell asleep with all sorts of toasted deliciousness wafting through our small apartment. I still had to get up at the crack of dawn and go to that whole day job thing, but somehow the prospect of something new and exciting mixed with my morning yogurt made the whole thing a lot easier to bear. And well, I think we can all get behind that. 

Skillet Granola

Adapted from Gourmet, June 2001

2 Tablespoons unsalted butter

2 Tablespoons honey

1/4 cup sesame seeds

1 cup old fashioned oats

Handful dried fruit of choice (I used raisins)

                                                                                                                                                    

Heat butter and honey in a skillet over moderate heat and stir until butter is melted. Add sesame seeds and cook, stirring until golden, about 3 minutes. Add oats and cook, stirring and tossing with 2 spoons, until golden, about 4 minutes. Spread granola evenly on a large sheet of foil to cool. Mix in desired amount of dried fruit. Granola will keep in an airtight container at room temperature for about 1 week.

Love at Third Bite

I never would have thought to cook fresh radishes until Mark Bittman told me it was okay.

He suggests you braise them with butter and you should definitely listen to him. I gave it a good thorough test last week, just for your benefit, and I’ve since become entirely smitten with the subtle and peppery sweet flavor of the warmed radishes.

To be honest, at first bite, I wasn’t completely in love. Actually, I think the first word that came to mind was meh. But then I took a second bite, and a third, and after a few mouthfuls the delicate flavor began to build, slowly rolling across my tongue, shimmering with earthy sweetness. The heat of the skillet turns the volume down on the radishes inherently strong bite, allowing them to hang out in the background, keeping it real, while the butter, salt, and parsley steal the show.

Painted with a thin, shiny glaze, they share the plate beautifully with a piece of fresh fish or served as a pre-dinner nibble with slices of bread and butter. There’s also plenty of wiggle room in this recipe, so feel free to tweak it to your liking.

Butter Braised Radishes

Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman

2 Tablespoons butter

1 Tablespoon canola oil or other neutral oil

2 small bunches of radishes- cleaned and trimmed

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

¼ cup chicken/vegetable stock or white wine (I used chicken stock)

1 Teaspoon sugar

Minced flat-leaf parsley for serving

Freshly squeezed lemon juice to taste

Melt the butter with the oil in a large frying pan that can be covered. Add radishes, stir to coat with butter/oil, and cook for 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and add the white wine or chicken/vegetable stock and the sugar. Turn the heat down to low and cook, covered, for 10-15 minutes, until the radishes are barely fork-tender.

Uncover the pan, raise the heat to medium-high and cook, stirring, until the radishes are glazed and the liquid is syrupy (another few minutes). Garnish with the parsley and serve with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Grab a Spoon

Friends, grab a spoon and pull up a chair, because we need to talk about ice cream.

Fresh. Mint. Ice. Cream.

It's fragrant and soothing and sweetly herbal- a far cry from the bright green mint ice cream of childhood. And- it's fantastic. I used to only get this excited about things involving whipped cream and chocolate but apparently I'm beginning to mature- either that or I'm getting a little strange. In any case, I look at it as positive growth. I even left the chocolate part out of the recipe. I'm in it for the mint because when fresh mint is steeped in hot cream something sort of magical, almost bewitching seems to occur. The cream takes on the flavor of the mint, smoothing the herbal notes and rounding off its edges until it is all soft corners, easy swallows, and completely dreamy.

It's heaven and it's perfect and I wouldn't change a thing so click here to get the recipe from the esteemed David Lebovitz.