Raccoon and Lobster

This is my first ever apple pie. Clearly, I am not very American. When it comes to the pie versus cake debate, I am pretty firmly on the side of Team Cake. There are those in the Cake Club that do not agree, however, and on their behalf, I agreed to attempt my first ever real pie. (Real pie being pie that involves two layers of crust and baked fruit, not things in pie pans that are called pie but are actually custards on a shell. French Silk Pie, while delicious, does not qualify.)

With a little help from Cook’s Illustrated, Smitten Kitchen, and Shuna Fish Lydon pastry chef extraordinaire, I managed to cobble (heh) together a lumpy heap of fruit wrapped in crust.

It smelled amazing. And seeing the steam rise out as it was cooling was pretty cool, I’ll admit. Very homey in a way that cake rarely manages to be.

The recipe called for 4 pounds of apples in two different varieties. Smitten Kitchen seemed to confirm this. The recipe instructions said to “mound slightly in center”. My pie pan was half an inch bigger than required. My apples were smaller than described so more of it was core and had to be discarded.

I was only halfway through the bowl of filling when I hit generously mounded status. Nonetheless, I was not about to question culinary gurus with far more baking experience than me. If the recipe says 4 pounds of apples, then by golly I am going to stuff 4 pounds of apples in that pie. The end result was an assertive high-rise of apples barely contained by a crust that was rapidly developing excess venting holes under the strain of enveloping such a load.

Of course, after it cooled and the steam escaped, the pile of apple filling collapsed to a reasonable height while the shell remained the original height. Hmph. I suppose that’s part of being rustic. Or something.

Superficialities aside, the crust was flaky and buttery, and the apple filling was tart and sweet and cinnamon-y and nutmeg-y in all the right ways . While the presentation may leave something to be desired, it seems as if the pie itself is a winner.

At every step of this recipe, the crust should be kept as cold as possible. If you are not actively handling it, it should be in the fridge.

All Butter Pie Crust via Shuna Fish Lydon (did I mention she used to be the pastry chef at The French Laundry?)

Makes enough for a pie top and bottom

2 cups of all purpose flour (I used 9.2 oz)
4 tablespoons sugar
8 oz butter, cut into equal pieces and frozen
½ teaspoon kosher salt (or about 1/4 teaspoon table salt)
ice water

Assemble all dry ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer. Use paddle attachment on mixer and drop the butter in a few pieces at a time. When the chunks of butter are slightly larger than pea size, dribble in ice water until the dough just begins to come together. Do not wait until it forms a ball. It is ready when it stops looking dry and barely starts to bind to itself.

Stop the mixer and turn it on to a lightly floured work surface. Flour your hands and  just push the dough together into a ball. The dough is ready to use immediately without resting. Divide dough in half and refrigerate during other prep work.

Apple Pie via The New Best Recipe with a tweaks from Smitten Kitchen and Shuna

2 pounds Granny Smith apples
2 pounds McIntoch apples
1½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
3/4 cups sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt (or ½ teaspoon kosher salt)
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground allspice
heavy cream for brushing
raw sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 425°F and put your pie pan in the freezer.

Peel and core all apples and cut into 1/4″ slices. Toss with sugar, lemon juice, zest, salt, and spices.

Roll out a ball of dough onto a lightly floured surface. Dust hands and top of dough with flour and roll out into a circle about 12″ in diameter. Fold dough in quarters and unfold appropriately into the pie pan. Gently press the dough into the sides of the pan.

Move fruit mixture, including juices, into the pie shell. Refrigerate the pie while rolling out the top shell.

Place the top shell over the pie filling and trim the top and bottom edges of the dough to ½” beyond the edge of the pan. Tuck the rim underneath itself so it lies flat with the edge of the pan. Press with fork tines to seal. Cut four slits for steam to escape on the top of the dough.

Brush crust with cream and sprinkle with sugar. Bake for 25 minutes until the top is golden and reduce temperature to 375°F until the crust is deep golden brown and the juices bubble. Stick a baking sheet under the pie to catch any drips from the cream or the filling to make for easier cleanup.

Transfer to a cooling rack and let cool to almost room temperature, about 4 hours.

Mercilessly taunt the dogs moping under the table, hoping for pie.

I couldn’t allow this enormous head of cauliflower to remain where I found him, silently plotting whatever it is that giant cauliflowers plot. Look at the tendrils of his green cauliflower leaf-hands. Can’t you see them unfurling oh-so-slowly? No? Just wait. You will.

Cauliflower, like trolls, are well known for their ability to regenerate, and the only defense against them rising up is to attack with fire or acid.

I chose to do both, first pummeling them with a blast of heat from my burners, and then finishing them off with the slow burn of my stomach acid.

My good deed for the day is done. You’re welcome, universe.

Sautéed Cauliflower

Cauliflower
vegetable oil
salt
pepper
minced garlic
chopped chives
crushed cayenne pepper flakes
grated Asiago cheese

Tear off leafy cauliflower hands and trim the stem. Rinse the monstrous creature under running water and cut it into small florets of roughly equal size.

Sauté in a skillet over medium heat with vegetable oil until golden brown. Season to taste with salt and pepper and add in the garlic. Remove from heat when the garlic is softened and fragrant and toss with the chives, cayenne pepper, and cheese. Eat with the satisfaction of a job well done.

I can’t decide which is worse: missing a stick of butter because a puppy dog ate it, or missing a stick of butter because a puppy dog hid it. Either way, it’s not going to be pretty when I finally find evidence of the crime.

Rocky: With great chicken comes great responsibility

Arthur: Chicken is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do

The Most Delicious Hat (also serves as a pretty mean tortilla)
Makes 8 8″ hats

2 cups flour (9.2 oz)
¼ cup shortening
2/3 cup warm water
½ teaspoon salt

Cut shortening into the flour with a pastry cutter. Dissolve salt into the water and add to the flour mixture. Knead for 2-3 minutes until smooth, cover with plastic wrap and let rest for at least 20 minutes. Divide into 8 pieces for 8″ tortilla hats, or more for smaller hats. Cook in a cast iron pan over medium heat until dotted with brown specks and flip, cooking time will vary depending on tortilla thickness. Cover finished tortilla hats while cooking the remainder to ensure that they stay soft and pliable. Overcooked hats will be slightly crunchy and can be used to make kibble burritos and summarily disposed of or turned into kibble quesadillas.

The tree has been procured. The presents have been opened. They days are getting longer. The server is no longer dying. There is a giant pile of wrapping paper sitting in the living room and the puppies are asleep on the sofa. We had a fabulous Winter Solstice Boxing Day, and hope you did too.

Many faiths and cultures have holiday celebrations in the coming weeks, but the truly faithful know that December is when a very important figure was born. And although he came from humble beginnings, word of his miraculous birth spread quickly and he grew to be a moral and spiritual leader with followers all over the world. Every year, the anniversary of his birth is celebrated with great fanfare involving the gathering of families, sharing of food, and gifting of presents.

I speak, of course, of the birth of Rocky Raccoon.

‘Twas the night of his birthday, and all through the house

All the puppies were squeaking, with toys in their mouths.

Foul beasties are shaken.

And shaken some more.

Until piles of toy carcasses cover the floor.

This poem I am ending, because it’s a struggle to write,
So Happy Pupmas, to all, and to all, a good night!

This poor puppy. He has such simple needs. Food. Attention. A proper place to go to the bathroom. But we are such heartless people. Cruel, unfeeling tormentors who delight in punishing our loyal and faithful companions.

People who think it’s downright hilarious to use our be-thumbed hands to switch the door so that it opens to the other place. The wet place, where water falls on the sky and the ground feels soggy and damp. A place where no self-respecting dog would deign to squat. Good thing he can hold it for days.

Whine.
Whine.
Whine.
Whine.
Whine.
Bad people.
Still the wrong place. Still too dewy.
Whine.
Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnne.

Three whole weeks without a puppy post. For shame. Feel free to look askance at me. Rocky is.