My entire world could be crumbling, but if I have a pie crust to make/eat, all is ok in the world.
Good thing I had this pie because this week has been trying. It’s been one for the records in terms of toughness. Amelia is having her own rough week because she hates fireworks and my neighborhood always decides it’s a great time to shoot off fireworks for the whole week of Fourth of July. She’s been hiding in the bathroom all today. EMOJI CRYING FACE!
So, we’ve both stress-eaten a bit of pie. Can you blame us?
Summer is a sad sight without cherries.
They’re the best part of summer. Last fall I made a simple apple pie and took it to a dinner and sort of scratched my head as to how or why there wasn’t a classic and simple apple pie on this blog. So I fixed that issue.
Now, I’m fixing the issue that there isn’t a classic cherry pie recipe on this blog. Because sometimes you don’t want something complicated. Perfectly ripe summer fruit doesn’t need much manipulation—it’s a gem on its own. Just sweet summer cherries swimming in a pool with sugar and tapioca starch and cinnamon and salt. Nothing overpowers, nothing really stands out except the beautiful sweet cherries.
Hello you sweet gorgeous lil’ pie, you. I want to squish your cheeks like a grandma does a baby; I want to slap you on the ass like boys do in the locker room (I never understood this); I want to hug you so tightly that you get mad at me (I do this to Amelia daily). That’s how I feel about this pie.
This has Easter brunch situation written all over it. It’s the thing you bring to a brunch party and just wait for people to compliment you like crazy. And you can respond all NBD-like, Oh this pie, I just threw it together in like no time flat. Act casual.
If you’re not a rhubarb fan it’s probably because it was way too tart. It’s like tart celery.
There’s no winter equivalent to the term “dog days of summer,” is there? I feel like whatever that would be, we’re in it. It’s sort of a waiting game, it feels like, for flowers to bloom and other produce besides turnips and beets to show up.
And yes, I know I live in Los Angeles, a place where winter never really arrives, but I feel like, we too, are sort of in a bit of a slump. February is slumpy, man!
Cute key limes are here to the rescue and they come in form of this pie, which you should eat a lot of. Pie cures all sorts of things, including but not limited to, the winter blues.
I used to get the winter blues when I lived in North Carolina. For weeks it would be dark and gloomy and my skin would get soooo chapped and dry because of the weather. A doctor once told me I should go to a tanning bed because it would help my mood. I thought it was insane so I went, which is strange because I’m already brown, but it actually helped
This coconut key lime pie is like the equivalent of sitting in the sun. It will give you images of beaches and blue and green oceans and palm trees.
I’ve actually ventured down to Key West, Floria many times. I have a bit of a fondness for it. It’s not a fancy place at all but it’s one of the only places in the country where you can see the sunrise and sunset in the same place.
I’m going to sound like a broken record when I tell you that, as a kid, all I wanted in the world were terrible-for-you foods. Unfortunately, the only thing fun my mama was willing to buy us were frozen pot pies. I took what I could get! I loved the flakey crust and rich filling. The overly cooked peas and carrots…not so much.
These two lil’ baby pot pies are a way better version than the mediocre pot pies that I’d devour after school while watching The Power Rangers. Here’s what makes them fancy:
1. Schmaltz. Yassss!! This crust is special. Instead of butter (you can totally use butter if you don’t have schmaltz) I used schmaltz and it resulted in a really delicious, more crumb-like, very chicken-y crust. Oh man. I like it a lot!
I’m pretty sure we can all agree that the week before Christmas is the most INSANE WEEK IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. We’re all bustling, hustling and working (and werking) to get everything wrapped up and done before everyone peaces out for the rest of the year.
Next week I have a massage booked. I’m going to Palm Springs for a few days to rest up and do absolutely nothing. During this time, I plan on writing a few things down: my goals for 2015 (proof I’m getting older, I never used to do this), things I learned in 2014 and a few things I’m grateful for. It sounds like a cheesy little thing to do, but these tasks organize my thoughts. It’s like going to The Container Store for my brain.
Next week, there will be pie. Because, pie. And because there always should be pie.
There’s also a chance I might listen to the last episode of SERIAL again because OMG Ronald. NO! I’m not buying that, attorney-who-I-respect. UGH! Jay did it.
Are you a corn syrup hater? You probably are. Everyone is and I get it. I do.
Since I use it so sparingly, I’m not that weird about it. There are some instances when it offers results that are pitch perfect. Examples: Fudge sauce (the sheen that corn syrup provides is dreamy) and marshmallows (man, oh man, it’s just a must).
I do hate corn syrup in ice cream. Oh good gracious. I can actually taste the acid in the corn syrup in the back of my throat. It’s awful. A lot of ice cream makers have started to include corn syrup because it provides such a glorious and smooth texture to ice cream. I get it. I do.
But there are other instances where corn syrup can easily be swapped out and I take those opportunities any chance I get. Namely, pecan pie. And in this case, walnut pie…with bitters because YAAASSSS!
I probably won’t be the richest grandma so I doubt I’ll leave copious amounts of money to a school or hospital; I won’t end up buying a ton of jewelery in my lifetime so there will be no diamonds (sorry, grandchildren); and there’s a good chance I won’t be leaving behind large amounts of land in the hills of Wisconsin (are there hills in Wisconsin?…you get what I mean).
My hope is that my grand kids will tell their friends about how their grandma looked so sweet and small yet she was strong, told sarcastic jokes and had a foul mouth. I hope they tell their friends that whenever I visited, I made them the most elaborate ridiculous lunches and wrote them the sweetest notes for them to find at lunch time. And I hope they tell their friends about how their grandma, with her super veiny hands, made the best pies ever.
I’m having a moment with sour cherries. They never pop-up too much in LA. In Michigan, yes. But here, not so much. They’re pretty infrequent but OMG do I love them.
They’re the prettiest hue. Regular ol’ cherries, which I love, are usually much darker in hue, but sour cherries are the prettiest of pink. And their flavor! The perfect balance between tart and sweet. Sandwiched in between two pieces of flakey, buttery pie crust is a good move. A VERY good move.
My year is broken into two pie seasons (ehhh…maybe three, actually): spring, summer and Thanksgiving. (T-Day is just one big ol’ pie season unto itself!) Summer is usually when my fruit pie game is strong. If I’m not doing pies than cobblers are usually my move. And during Spring I usually start getting into pies by way of a crumble or something. I like to ease into it and I did, just last week with this Rye Rhubarb Walnut thingy. Today, I’m going all in. PIE!
It’s full of pies for every month of year. The pictures are really pretty, the flavor combinations are interesting and delicious-sounding and the book is beautifully formatted. I know we’re in April but I ended up settling on a pie from October chapter and swapping out regular oranges for cara cards, but feel free to use what you can find at the grocery store.
I sometimes imagine what it’d be like to run a pie shop. In my dreams I’d own one. It’d also be in a dreamy land in which I could run a pie shop, bake a bunch of pies, be blind to spreadsheets and magically sleep 8 hours a night. I know this land doesn’t exist and running a pie shop would require me to worry about a gamut of unromantic, un-pie-related things.
Have I told you how much I hate spreadsheets?
If I’m lucky I’d have a partner who would be in charge of all things business. I’m sure he’d be constantly nagging me about my addiction to using fancy chocolates, butter and fruit in pies, in which my reply would be with a gigantic, attitude-filled shrug that’d look a bit like this:
(If you know me, you know how much I love that dang shrug emoticon.)