Pecan Pie

With my pie meter stuck at a lowly two, it was time to move the needle. Fortunately, with several family Christmas gatherings to attend this year, I had plenty of opportunity to make a couple more pies. Out of efficiency, I wanted to find a way to kill two birds with one stone. In other words, I needed a recipe that would make two pies out of one plain pastry. 

Near the end of my Superb Pies and Pastries book, I came across this recipe for Pecan Pie that would help me do just that. Each pie only needs 1/2 of the plain pastry for the bottom crust!

Pecan Pie

(Makes one 8-inch pie)

1/4 cup butter

2/3 cup brown sugar, firmly packed

1/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup dark corn sirup

3 eggs, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 recipe Plain Pastry

1 cup pecan halves

1) Cream butter and sugar together until fluffy; add next four ingredients.

I used my KitchenAid mixer to cream the butter and sugar together, constantly scraping the bottom of the bowl to make sure everything at least touched the beater.

Then I added the salt, vanilla, eggs, and corn syrup, and let the mixer do its thing. By this point, the mixture was a sweet, beige, goopy mess. I've never cooked with corn syrup and I was absolutely certain I was using too much, but it looked and smelled like the stuff pecan pie is made of, so I pressed onward. 

 

2) Line piepan with pastry and sprinkle with pecans.

I made the plain pastry just like I did the last time, and halved the dough to make two pie crusts. I have to say, the whole pastry-making process went a little smoother this time because I knew more about what to expect. Experience definitely helps. Still, I turned into a crazy dictator-person at times, and I want to take this moment to publicly apologize to my photography assistant. Taylor, I'm sorry you married an anxious, over-achieving perfectionist. I know now we aren't defusing bombs. We're just making pies. I'll try to remember that next time.

3) Pour the filling over pecans.

What I learned during this step is that it doesn't hurt to give the filling a few more stirs before pouring into the piepan. If you don't, you end up pouring a lot of corn syrup into the pie, and then slopping in the other ingredients that settled to the bottom of the mixing bowl. 

Because I was making two pies, I had an instantaneous opportunity to improve my technique! When I made my second batch of pie filling, I was more careful to blend more thoroughly.

4) Bake in very hot oven (450 degrees F.) 10 minutes; reduce temperature to moderate (350 degrees F.) and bake 35 minutes longer or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. 

 I lovingly put my pies in the oven, taking care to adjust the temperature about ten minutes in, as instructed. And here's what came out of the oven, 45 hand-wringing minutes later:

See how the pie on the right is lighter than the pie on the left? I can't remember now which one had the thoroughly mixed pie filling, and which one had some gloppy layers of corn syrup and other "sediment" poured in, but that's why they look a little different. Strangely enough, they had no difference in texture or taste, and both baked beautifully. You'll also notice that the crust on the left looks a little crispier than the one on the right, and that it shrunk up a little more in the pan. I have a new pastry cloth with a really handy measuring guide to help me better approximate the appropriate crust size next time.

I have a few pecan pie-lovers and experts in my family, so I insisted that they taste it and provide feedback. All gave the pecan pie their glowing praise, but this may be more because I'm the baby of the family and less because it was truly prize-worthy. Still, I tasted the pies and I thought they were good, and I'm discovering my opinion of my cooking matters a lot, too.

I'm sorry there aren't any pictures of the inside. I forgot to take a picture of the pie after we cut it. Next time! So far, though, I'm 4/4 for my pie filling holding together. (I realize you just read in that last sentence a very awkward "four for four for," but I'm just going to let it go.) 

So there you have it--two successful pecan pies to move the pie needle. What kind of pie should I make next?

Food Art History

In the past five months of writing this blog, I've come a long way. I've made pot roasts and pies, cookies and cakes, dips and sandwiches--all with varying degrees of success. There's no doubt, my skills have sharpened with each new recipe, and I'm feeling much more comfortable in the kitchen.

But more fun than the cooking has been the hunting. I've spent hours picking through dusty shelves at area antique malls, uncovering great old cookbooks to add to my collection.  Most of the books were published by food companies or growers' associations, with recipes featuring their specific products--like Ohio apples, Chiquita bananas, and Sunkist oranges, to name a few.

Of course, in addition to publishing their own cookbooks, the food companies also advertised the old-fashioned way--in magazines. Take a look at some of the gorgeous pages below:

What I love about these recipes is that they call for the inclusion of a specific brand of ingredient. It's not just Green Beans Caesar, whatever that is. It's Del Monte Green Beans Caesar. Remember when I made Joan's Apple Cake? That recipe called specifically for Wesson oil, and sure enough, that's what I used. Marketing at its finest, people!

Many people say that cooking is an art form, and I get that now. Long before Pinterest was a thing, there were companies pushing their products with beautiful spreads in print. I've found there's something really rewarding about re-creating the image from the page. Even when the flavors are questionable, I still have a feeling of accomplishment when I see my complete creation!

In the new year ahead, I'm eager to continue my study of food art history. I'll keep making more vintage recipes, and striving for more victories on the kitchen front. Onward!

Cottage Cheese Kolacky

If you've been following along at home, then I'm guessing you've got a lot of cottage cheese leftover from when you attempted these recipes. So if you're looking for a way to use it up before it turns, might I suggest this unique recipe for Cottage Cheese Kolacky.

I wasn't familiar with this dessert and there was no photo in the cookbook, so I did a little research. Kolacky is the plural form of Kolach, a kind of sweet wedding pastry that originated in Central Europe and is popular among Czech-American communities. The dough is cut into a circle shape, filled with a dollop of jam or pulped fruit, folded over along the edges, and baked in the oven. Although I'd never made the original, this variation seemed simple enough. You know I'm game for anything that features cottage cheese!

Cottage Cheese Kolacky

1 cup (2 sticks) butter

2 cups cottage cheese

2 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

Stewed dried fruit and/or preserves

1) Cream together butter and cottage cheese. Sift together flour and salt; mix into butter-cheese mixture thoroughly. 

2) Chill several hours, or overnight. Roll out 1/8 inch thick on a lightly floured board.

The cottage cheese, though manna from above, kept sticking to everything. No matter how much extra flour I added to the dough, it mercilessly clung to the rolling pin and counter, making this recipe painstakingly slow to execute. I'm happy to report that since making these kolacky, I've acquired a pastry frame, cloth, and rolling pin cover to prevent the dough from sticking quite so much. 

3) Cut into 2 or 3 inch squares or circles and place a small amount of fruit or preserves on each.

This was a delicate operation. Too big of a dollop resulted in leaky kolacky, and too little resulted in bland kolacky. As you'll see in later pictures, I don't think I ever got the balance quite right.

4) Fold over and seal edges. Bake 15-20 minutes.

I wasn't quite sure how exactly to fold the dough, so I consulted some images on wikipedia. From one picture, it looks like you're supposed to roll the dough around the edge, leaving the center preserves exposed. And then in another picture, it looks like you're supposed to pinch the edges together into a pocket for the preserves. Despite the dough's excessive stickiness on the rolling pin, I had a hard time keeping the edges together, so this was the best I could do. My kolacky ended up resembling little half moons, like empanadas. We're very multicultural here in my kitchen.

I put the pan in the oven and baked for about 18 minutes until the dough turned crispy and golden brown and the preserves oozed out. The little jam massacre was still tasty, though, with the baked preserves resembling something like fruit leather. A bonus dessert!

5) Sprinkle with confectioners sugar, if desired.

Just so we're clear, there is no 'if' in this statement. Confectioners sugar is always "desired." Okay?

Maybe it's just me, but don't these look a little like emojis? Like the kind that you make to say "I'm kidding!" A la :-P? Anyone?

I'll tell you what, though, these kolacky aren't kidding around when it comes to taste. They were crispy and flaky with the perfect balance of sweetness from the preserves. Like mini pies on the plate. Please note that unlike our last few cottage cheese dishes, this really is the perfect party food--a hit among kids and adults, alike!

You should also note that this recipe yields a LOT of dough, enough to make 4-5 dozen kolacky if you're dedicated. I was too frustrated with the stickiness of the dough to persevere beyond about two dozen, but now that I have more special pastry tools at my disposal, I think I could go the distance next time. Game on, future pastries! 

Cheese & Pineapple Spears

What do sweet pickles, pineapple, maraschino cherries, and walnuts have in common?

If you answered, "They pair well with cheese!" then you'd be right in a 1940s kind of way! About a week and a half ago, I was invited to a little Christmas gathering among friends. I knew I wanted to add a little vintage flair to our holiday gathering, but I wasn't sure what to make. I flipped through this 1949 cookbook in search of some ideas for entertaining:

What I found was definitely...entertaining. Check out this cheese-based recipe:

Cheese Spears
8 (3/4 inch) cubes of American cheese
8 walnut halves
8 tiny sweet pickles 

Spear a cheese cube, a walnut half, then a sweet pickle on an hors d'oeuvre pick. Serve on an hors d'oeuvres holder. Makes 8.

The photo says it all. I speared the cheese, carefully slid the walnut half on the pick, then topped it all off with a sweet pickle. Voila! Honestly, the hardest part of this whole process was keeping the walnut from crumbling apart on the spear.

The snack book listed a variation on this recipe that looked just as easy, so I gave it a shot, too.

Pineapple Spears
Spear a cube of fresh pineapple, then a cube of sharp Cheddar cheese, and top with a cherry.

So easy! And look how festive they are when put all together on the same plate:

They look pretty enough, but you may be wondering how they actually taste. It depends on how you eat them. If you deconstruct the spear, as some of my friends did, then it's just going to taste like each individual ingredient on a stick. Like a '40s shish kabob. But if you eat it all in one bite, that's when things get interesting. Overall, the flavor combo isn't bad. Both have that sweet/savory/tangy medley going on. The strangest thing, though, is the variety of textures. Crunchy, crumbly, juicy, soft--do all of those belong in one bite? I'm not sure.

What I love most about this recipe is that the pineapple and sweet pickles were a surprising nod to Christmases past with my grandmothers. Each year, my Grandma Linda makes the tastiest holiday dishes, but my favorite thing she brings is a big bowl of freshly cut pineapple. It's a sweet and juicy treat reserved for holidays and special occasions. My cousins and I can usually be found hovering near the snack table throughout the day, sneaking pieces of pineapple directly from the bowl. Grandma, if you're reading this, I'm counting on having pineapple again this year at Christmas, hint, hint! I promise not to ruin it by adding cheese and cherries.

For Christmas at my Grandma Pat's house, I could count on finding a triple-decker serving bowl filled, without fail, with potato chips from the local deli, onion dip, and sweet pickles. Who knows what else was served at those holiday dinners--I loaded up on the pickles. It's been 13 Christmases since we lost her to cancer, and the holiday season just isn't the same without her. But having this weird little cheese spear oddly reminded me of her. It's funny how these old recipes can transport us to another time and place, eh?

Merry Christmas and pass the cheese spears!

Pot Roast of Beef

A few weeks ago, Taylor and I were passing through Urbana, and we were "strongly encouraged" to take some beef from the freezer. Again. Unlike last time, though, we took full advantage of this offer and packed about 5 different cuts of meat into our cooler. Hey, I've got bellies to fill and blog posts to write! Free food for the win!

Once home, I flipped through some cookbooks to see what I could make with this bounty of beef. My Family Fare: Food Management and Recipes cookbook had several promising candidates.

Printed by the Kroger Company in 1950, this is one of the more "normal" cookbooks in my collection. It isn't based around a particular food or brand, it gives practical food handling tips, and it has a good variety of recipes, like this simple recipe for "pot roast of beef." Having never made pot roast before (I know, I know, I'm a pitiful adult), I thought I'd give it a try.

Pot Roast of Beef

1) Select 4 to 5 pounds of beef--chuck, rump, or round.

You know, I don't care how many times I've cooked with meat, I'm still grossed out by the juices in the package. I know it's not blood--it's myoglobin and water--but still. Yuck.

2) Rub the meat with salt, pepper, and flour, and brown on all sides in a little hot fat in a deep heavy pan with a cover.

With no instructions for how much salt, pepper, and flour to use, this is the part of the story where I threw caution (and flour, apparently) to the wind. Normally, I'm conservative in my mess-making, and at the very least, try to clean up as I go along. This time I let the flour fly. And I didn't clean it up for at least 20 minutes. Live dangerously, that's what I never say!

3) Slip a low rack under meat to keep it from sticking to pan. Add one-half cup of water; cover pan closely.

I didn't have a rack, but I fully believed I could keep the meat from burning by sheer will power. And water.

4) Cook slowly over low heat until done--about 3 hours. Add more water as needed.

While the roast cooked, I chopped some potatoes, onions, carrots, and sweet potatoes so that I'd be ready for the next step.

Here I'd like to add my apologies for the quality of the photos from here on out. When I started the roast, it was daytime and I had good light for photos. And like an hour later it was dark because it's winter now and everything is sad and hopeless starting at 5:30 PM. So, yeah, we're going to have some weird shadows and glare from the flash, okay? Somebody pass the Zoloft.

5) During the last half hour, cook vegetables with meat--quartered potatoes, onions, and whole carrots. 

Finally my roast was complete, and I was ready to cut the meat and serve with the roasted vegetables.

 

I'm not a meat connoisseur by any means, but my dinner guests affirmed that the roast was tender, juicy, and well-cooked. We did notice that not all of the vegetables softened quite like we would have liked; there were a few particularly crunchy sweet potato chunks on my plate. I probably should have added more water to fully submerge the vegetables--steam was not enough!--and I think maybe I could have added the vegetables to the pot a little earlier, too.

Otherwise, here it is! A pot roast of beef recipe, still going strong 65 years later. Don't mess with the classics, right?

And before I conclude this post, I just want to draw your attention to this drab photo:

This photo is significant because it is the last one depicting our old kitchen floor in a post. That's right--just a few days later, that old vinyl floor would be replaced by this nice new ceramic one:

From this post forward, those gorgeous gray-brown tiles will serve as the backdrop of the blog. We've still got a few things to finish--like the baseboards, and the backsplash--before we can call this renovation complete, but in the meantime, maybe I'll cook up a post with the before-and-after process. Or maybe I'll cook up some jello. We haven't had any jello recipes yet...

Cherry Pie--Part 2

This week I'm sharing a series of vintage recipes that are sure to turn heads at your holiday table. This post is part two of my first ever attempt to make pie from scratch. Bon appetit!

When we last were together, we were working on our first ever cherry pie. We had just rolled our crust into the piepan and were about to start on our pie filling. There were so many pies to choose from in the 250 Superb Pies and Pastries cookbook, but I picked good ol' cherry pie--no food coloring, no mincemeat, no tapioca--just plain cherry.

Cherry Pie
2 cups canned sweetened red cherries
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup cherry juice
1 tablespoon butter
1 plain pastry 

1) Drain cherries, saving juice. Mix cornstarch, sugar, and salt.

2) Add juice gradually and cook slowly until smooth and thickened. 

This part took a little time, but after about five minutes or so, the juice started to thicken and slide even slower off the spatula. I was ready for cherries!

3) Add butter and cherries. Cool.

4) Line piepan with pastry, pour in filling, and cover with top crust.

So simple! Because I had already made my bottom crust, all I needed to do was roll out the top crust, pour in the filling, and cover the pie for baking. My dough chilled while I cooked the pie filling, so I kept things rolling (pie pun!) by flouring my surface and working out the second half of the dough. 

Okay, I just want to pause for a minute and say that as a recovering perfectionist, pie-making is really hard.  There are about a million variables that can go wrong, and I'm in control of essentially none of them. That is a very hard truth to accept. At one point, I had to roll up my dough and start over because it just wasn't sticking together. I am pretty sure I did everything the same as with the bottom crust, but it just wasn't working for me. Whatever. Pie pity party over.

Once the top crust was rolled out, I poured the cherry filling into the piepan. It was thick and gooey, and the right amount for the pie crust. I was ready to cover my pie.

At this point, the Plain Pastry recipe we worked from last time advised "to dampen the edges of the lower crust with cold water and cover with remaining dough, which has been rolled out and slashed in several places to allow steam to escape while baking."

So that's what I did. I'm nothing if not a rule-follower.

I placed the top dough ever-so-gingerly on top of the pie, then crimped the edges with a fork to help hold it all together. Because my dough wasn't perfectly round (deep breaths), I also needed to trim the edges with a knife.

 5) Bake in very hot oven (450 degrees F) for 15 minutes; reduce to moderate (350 degrees F) and bake about 25 minutes longer. 

This was a moment of truth for me. My first ever pie, heading into the oven. No turning back. What's done is done. After an agonizing 40 minutes, it was time to retrieve my freshly-baked pie.

Look how beautiful! The crust is golden brown and the pie is in tact. I was over the moon!

But how would it taste? We had to wait a while for our first bite, as this pie was already claimed for our church's Sunday potluck and we couldn't cut into it just yet. By the time we made it through the serving line, several pieces were already gone, but we managed to cut a little piece for testing. We took the slice back to the table, and it was incredible!

The crust was flaky, the filling held together, and the flavors were great. It wasn't too sweet or too tart--it was just right! At least, we thought so, anyway. The real test would come a few days later when I made the pie again for our family's Thanksgiving dinner. It was just as unpredictable, time-consuming, and stressful as the first time I made it, but the pie looked decent enough. I just hoped it would taste good, too!

I knew our relatives would be polite and eat the pie and say nice things, but I was seeking one vote of approval, in particular. Back in August when I started this blog, my dad had specifically requested I make him a cherry pie, so I was most anxious for his reaction. It was the only dessert he ate that night, and I'm pleased to say it got the official Head Nod of Approval. (And a pat on the back, and a hug, and a lot of other really nice words. He's my dad, and he loves me. And he loves Sheila. And pie.)

And with that, I'm officially a pie-maker! Only 249 more kinds to make. I think I know how I'll be spending the winter...