When Life Gives You Lemons (and Oranges)

15 Friday May 2020

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Cream Pie, Icebox Pie

Tags

icebox, lemon, lemon curd, whipped cream

Sweet-Tart Lemon Cloud Icebox Pie.

Here we go, here we go! Settle in for a long, rambly post with a wandering storyline. The stuff you clearly embrace if you’re a repeat reader of my blog.

First off, a word of thanks to all of my local friends with lemon trees who have been kind enough to drop off bags at our house at regular intervals. ‘Tis the season in California that I absolutely cannot bring myself to pay for lemons at stores when I full well know that there are many trees bursting with lemons that have few prospects in life. I’m a barterer/surprise gifter from way back, but you’ll see in this post that this tendency has become strengthened even further during COVID-19.

This pie’s story begins on Easter night, with Levi juicing a million lemons like a hero. Juice to be used in the pie, for Penicillin cocktails later in the week/month, etc. (we also like to keep juice in the freezer to have on hand, hence the ice cube trays.) Not pictured, us watching The Chosen, which has honestly helped us get to know our Jesus better than I would have EVER imagined a mere television show could. So, so, good.

Trader Joe’s Ad of the Post: Organic Vanilla Wafers being crunched up to make a very fine (texture wise, and otherwise) crumb crust. Dee-lightful. It’s exactly like making a graham cracker crust (melted butter, cinnamon, brown sugar) but with the obvious substitution of Vanilla Wafers for Grahams.

A sad sidebar: you may well have noted in the above image that the handle of my food processor is, um, missing…it has broken in several places…so for the time being, every time I make a crumb crust (or pesto or hummus, for that matter) I get to meticulously line up the point of the tiny part pictured below to an equally tiny pressure point at the base of the food processor “handle” in order to start the blades spinning. It’s kind of hard to describe, but your takeaway should be, “That sounds safe, but annoying.”

Guys, I’m a broken record. Ain’t nothin’ like a homemade crumb crust.

Here’s the next bit of excitement: learning to make lemon curd! I was actually quite excited that this pie called for homemade curd. You may remember (or may learn by clicking here) that one of my more recent endeavors was the 10-Minute Lemon Meringue Icebox Pie. That pie, titled for its expediency, called for storebought lemon curd (I used Bonne Maman). And that was great too. But I think I have always wanted to make my own lemon/citrus curd (aside from pie. Scones come to mind first!) and this was a great foot in the door.

Lemon juice, lemon zest, an egg, 5 egg yolks, sugar. (Later, butter.) That’s what’s in a nice homemade lemon curd.

Cue lots and lots of whisking over a double boiler.

A layer of plastic wrap pressed over the finished product is a classic storage tip for curds and custards.

P.S. Unlike the 10-Minute Lemon Meringue, I would NOT recommend trying to make this pie alone with a nearly two-year-old. I didn’t try, she was for sure playing with Daddy during at least the more complicated parts, but um yeah I can’t imagine that would have gone well if I had. #knowthyself #andthytoddler

The order of events:

1. Pre-baked crumb crust (7 minute baking time)

2. Layer of lemon curd

3. Layer of whipping cream beaten with powdered sugar, vanilla, and mas lemon curd.

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Sweet-Tart Lemon Cloud Icebox Pie (157)

You’ve heard me talk before about how it’s just not really okay to eat a whole pie on your own. When I say on my own, I also mean, my immediate family. Two adults and a small child to one pie is not the correct ratio. I’m not saying we don’t have it in us, I’m just saying it’s a bad idea. And if you can’t bring people to the pie…bring the pie to the people.

The ridiculous packaging of these outgoing gifts immediately prompted me to buy a fat stack of cute pie clamshell thingies that you will no doubt see in future episodes (I meant posts but I wrote episodes and decided to leave it).

On the same day this pie went out to surprise some friends, I got a lovely surprise on my doorstep too. We did a fun little “Spring gift exchange” in my church’s women’s group, and the pie was part of my outgoing “secret sister” gift. My incoming gift included sweet bracelets handmade by one of my youngest friends, a basket handmade (!) by her very talented mama, a nature book, and oranges from their orange tree. Talk about a day brightener. I loved it all! (So did/does Pippa.) Thank you, friends!

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When Levi and I sat down to enjoy our portion of pie, he declared it to be…drumroll…THE BEST PIE YET. And just now as I was writing I was like whoa whoa I better clarify this b/c that’s a pretty big claim. So here are some of his exact-ish words:

“Okay, I don’t know if I’d put it in a contest and claim that it would win against every other kind of pie out there but it’s true that if you ask me right now or really any time what pie I want to eat, the answer is this one.”

Do with that what you will.

Oh, and please check out the layering in the side profile shot right there on your way out.

Unrelated P.S. The Gelineau House lockdown has been brought to you by innumerable hours of Playmobil. Pictured below: (L) Mommy and Pippa with quarantine hairdos and yes that is a Playmobil sunflower behind my ear. (R) “Daughter” gets sent to the market to buy vegetables.

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Smile! God loves you.

The Sweeny Family Gives Thanks

28 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Nut Pie, travel

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

cream, holiday, honey, lemon, travel, walnuts

Here is the original Norm and Marie Sweeny family, some years ago, bundled up for the snow and clearly in their element.

In 2017, the Sweeny family celebrated many milestones including Grandmother’s 90th birthday, Aunt Susan’s 60th birthday, Mom and Dad’s 30th anniversary, Alex and Levi’s 30th birthdays, and Matt’s 21st birthday. We were happy to be able to gather in Illinois to share a Thanksgiving weekend of celebrations together!

The family has grown over the years, as you can see…the photo below is even missing 4.5 grandchildren/great-grandchildren who couldn’t make the trip out from California.

Although many delicious desserts and savory items were made and consumed as part of the festivities, for the purposes of the blog I will naturally focus on the pie I baked for Thanksgiving: Maria’s Double Crust Walnut Pie. This pie is unique on several accounts, but, like many good things, begins with a bunch of butter.

Maria must be a special lady, because she has a special pie crust recipe in Pie to be used with this very special and delicious recipe: Maria’s Shortbread Pie Pastry. It contains much more sugar than a typical crust, as well as an egg and lemon zest. In fact, the crust has about the same number of ingredients that the pie filling does. Due to the egg, the crust has a heartier, sturdier texture than average.

Part of the uniqueness of this pie is that is meant to be baked in a springform pan. However, my aunt did not have a springform pan at her home (nor do I have one at mine–we’re more of a pie than a cake family clearly) so I slightly adapted the plan and used a deep dish pie pan. The recipe gives direction to add “ropes” of dough to the inside of the pan as pictured before pressing the dough flatly up against the sides of the pan. As far as I could tell, this just served to form a thicker pastry around the edges and hold the pie together more concretely. And the crust is such a delicious and important part of this dessert. I think it’s a good move.

The pie filling is made from walnuts that get boiled with sugar and water and added to honey and cream. Nothing to object to there. The top crust is brushed with an egg glaze, and the final result is drool-inducing.

If there was such a thing as Baklava Pie, this would be it. (Confusing picture below, that’s pumpkin pie on the plate there, also delicious, just not matching.)

In this shot here you can see the true decadence of the filling.

This pie is one of several to date that fall into the category of, “I don’t care if I still have roughly 150 pie recipes left in my cookbook and I probably won’t finish this project until I’m 53, this is a pie I would make again and again because it’s just that good.”

I’m sharing a few more pictures from the Sweeny family Thanksgiving weekend below. Enjoy and have a beautiful week!

Thanksgiving Feast

Cousin Alex’s Bacon-Wrapped Duck

When you turn 90 you get two cakes.

A little help with the candles!

Unwrapping a birthday birthstone gift.

Matt, the Jenga Master.

The Great Summer Catch-Up

14 Thursday Aug 2014

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Meringue Pie

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

lemon, meringue

And so it begins. Now that The Peace of Pie has been around for several years, the time-of-year patterns that show up are almost comically predictable.

I get to August and I’m all like, my blog is non-existent. I’ve been too busy living.

We’re not even going to admit that the pictures below are from March, cause they totally look like they could be taken in the summer (a perk of California).

We have just had so many delightful visits with friends this summer (okay, and spring, and all year.) Our friends Gray and Emily from Virginia came to spend a sunshiny weekend with us and it was just lovely. We walked around Santa Barbara, tasted some wines, ate some Mexican food, explored an entire warehouse full of orchids, and ended the day with a beach sunset and sushi. I’m describing this in detail so that you all desperately want to come visit too.

I’ve got pictures of Gray doing crazy stuff starting from when we were about ten years old. Here he is now.

They’re getting married next June.

I made this Classic Lemon Meringue Pie that weekend. Not to set the excitement level too high, but I’m about to reveal to you one of my hugest Epic Pie Fail moments to date. To preface: I am a still a meringue newbie. For those who were really paying attention while reading my Christmas post, you will note that the cinnamon meringue atop that lovely pie was my FIRST ever, making this my SECOND ever meringue experience.

Today’s take-home point: Respect the Broiler.

I know you all probably know already–never walk away from a broiler–well, I did. Yes, I did. For only thirty seconds, but that was mooooore than enough time for this carnage to take place.

Another point worth noting: burnt meringue smells like a s’more. Pretty good actually. But not so good to eat. So I scraped the top off and re-broiled just a smidge to cover up the battle scars. Goodbye, pretty mound of swirls. Hello, little haphazard pile.

So there’s a bit of vulnerability for you, from one baker to another (or maybe just from one baker to an interested reader, as the case may be. I think all you guys are great for reading what I write, so thanks a lot.) All’s well that ends well though, and I think Emily can vouch for the fact that this pie is an acceptable form of breakfast.

Summer Solstice

30 Tuesday Jul 2013

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Apple Pie, Mixed Fruit Pie, Original Pies, Summer Fruit Pie

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

apple, lemon, Minnesota, orange, pear, rhubarb

On the afternoon of the Summer Solstice, Grandmother was taking her well-earned daily nap, Aunt Sarah and cousin Matt were swimming off the dock, and Levi and Uncle Joe were shopping til they dropped at Gander Mountain. Granddad and I worked on a puzzle and made this pie. He has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t remember much of anything these days, but I think baking is a relatively familiar territory for the following reasons.

1. He has eaten possibly hundreds of my Grandmother’s delicious pies (blueberry and apple are the best kinds.)

2. “Grandfather bread” is a term used in my family to refer to the amazing bread he used to make every week in his bread machine. Grandmother has since taken over the breadmaking (Zante currant is the best kind.)

3. He used to be a research chemist, and what is baking, really, other than edible chemistry? (Post-Its and Scratch and Sniff were some of the best projects he worked on.)

I told Granddad that we were going to make an “Experiment Pie,” meaning that I had no recipe to follow. He laughed and stirred the filling: rhubarb, an apple, a pear, a little bit of pomegranate-lime juice, a squeeze of lemon juice, lemon zest, orange zest, powdered ginger, and nutmeg.

Butter pats go on top, because more butter is more better.

That evening–the sun didn’t set until ten–there was a Summer Solstice feast of epic proportions at the cabin.

There was a strawberry jicama salad from neighbor-friend Jackie.There was a pile of crispy walleye and bass straight from the St. Croix.

And to top it all off, we enjoyed a trio of pies (Experiment Pie, the Nectarine-Lime Pie of yesterday’s post, and a Grandmother Marie Apple Pie).

Pertaining to Pasties…

19 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Chess Pie, Savory Pie

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

chess, handheld, lemon, meat, savory

Our good friend Phil spent a week with us in February. He’s the type of guy who never does anything halfheartedly, whether it’s becoming an overnight fan of the Utah Jazz basketball team or making an authentic Australian meal.

Once Phil and I had the idea that we must make pasties while he was visiting, the whole thing kind of snowballed.

Oh wait, take a step back. What’s a pasty? Take a second to educate yourself if you’re not sure. (They’re basically meat and vegetable handheld pies.) But if you’re going to make proper pasties, you need to be even more specific.

Things that I discovered while grocery shopping with Phil:

1. Proper pasties contain beef, onion, potato, and swede.

2. Swede is Australian for rutabaga. (!!)

3. In a good and just world, pasties are accompanied by HP Sauce. Not surprisingly, the very American grocery store that we had visited to locate the swede did not stock HP sauce. There was clearly nothing for it but to make our own. Into the cart went the tomatoes.

So there we were, on a Monday night, chopping some steak and swede, mincing fresh rosemary, forming pastry, and simmering homemade HP sauce on the road. I made extra pastry, because savory pie followed by sweet pie is pretty much a perfect meal. As we were making enough food to feed a small army, it was luckily that we had six friends on our way over to share in the goodness.

(Thanks to Phil for the above photo!)

Here are the recipes we used for the pasties and the sauce. To be fair, we more glanced at the recipe to establish the necessity of including the swede. I used Ken Haedrich’s Basic Flaky Pie Crust for the pastry and we included some herbs in our version, most notably fresh rosemary from a friend’s garden. The sauce was lip-smackingly good; I’d definitely make it again for any and all future steak situations.

An egg wash over the pasties never hurts. Nor does the accompaniment of a nice Aussie red. I can think of many things that would hurt far more than those.

And now, dessert. A very simple Lemon Chess Pie, which perhaps did not receive a completely thorough cooling before it was consumed, but was none the worse for its lingering warmth and just a tiny bit of runniness.

PS to Phil/File: Here is a little note I received from a certain young 2nd grader later that week that I thought you might enjoy.

A Christmas Milestone

15 Friday Feb 2013

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Dried Fruit Pie, Nut Pie

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Christmas, christmas eve, cloves, cranberry, DIY, funeral pie, holiday, ken haedrich, lemon, orange, walnuts

Pie 100! I put off baking this pie because I thought, “Pie 100 has to be the best yet.” “Pie 100 deserves a really special occasion.” “Pie 100 has to be over-the-top and awe-inspiring to all who encounter it.”

Then all of a sudden it was Christmas and I had to make a pie for Christmas. So I just made something I thought sounded yummy, and Christmasy. You can’t force this kind of thing.

My commonwealth friends will know what I’m talking about when I say that I think the most Christmasy taste in all the world is mince pie. I guess to be specific, that taste is cloves. But yes. Very Christmasy.

Ken Haedrich calls this pie Dried Cranberry and Walnut Funeral Pie, which doesn’t sound very Christmasy, or even slightly cheerful. But it definitely tasted like the holidays. It was eaten without fanfare, on a cozy Christmas Eve. 200 pies to go. I wonder how many will be baked in 2013?

Some of the key players.

Stirring the filling/crying in anticipation for Les Mis. Typical.

Sneakin’. Also typical.

This pie was such a good poser, I couldn’t help myself.

Pie in a sleigh.

Pie with a Levi.

Pie waiting to become a ghost of Christmas past.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. I hope you all had fantastic Valentine’s Days, by the way. One of these days I’ll start being seasonally accurate. But really, would that be as fun?

Classic Chess Pie and Related Musings

11 Sunday Mar 2012

Posted by jessica@peace-of-pie in Chess Pie

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

chess, egg, lemon

I made my first chess pie a couple weeks ago. For my initial musings on this wonderful new genre, scroll down…keep going…there’s the post. It’s called “Chess Pie?”

To answer my own question: Awww yeah.

I flipped back to the beginning of the chapter of Pie entitled “Rich, Sweet, and Simple: Chess, Buttermilk, and Other Custard Pies.” Let’s start at the very beginning…a very good place to start. Classic Chess Pie.

As I mentioned when I was writing about the Angus Barn Chocolate Chess Pie, one feature of chess pies is that they contain eggs. This one contained four. I’ve been particularly excited about cooking/baking with eggs lately as we’ve started buying our eggs from a local lady who has a bunch of chickens (or, “spoiled girls,” as she refers to them) running around her yard. Fresh from the coop, free-range eggs for $3 a dozen….you can’t beat that. Plus they’re pretty. Like a rainbow.

(Check out the size of the white one in the middle….daaaaang.)

So four of these beauties went into my pie, as well as a large lemon (zest and juice) from a church friend’s lemon tree. Love that.

This French dame is getting crushed by the final product! I think the best way to describe the flavor of this one is that it’s kind of like a lemon bar…but the good kind. Not overwhelmingly sweet and nothing fake about it.

And now for the Relating Musings:

1. I do this to Levi (poor Levi) every time. “Leviiiiii…Ken says that this pie is supposed to be VERY dark brown. Would you say that this is VERY dark brown or just DARK brown?” (Like he actually has a better idea than I do…psh.)

But seriously, what do you think? I wouldn’t have said this was VERY dark brown…in fact I think I may have baked it slightly too long because of that description. The texture was still nice…gooey and stuff…but I am unsure that this was the way the pie was supposed to look at the end of the day. Those of you who are experienced in the ways of chess pie (aka Southerners), please chime in.

2. Prebaking crusts. Now. I understand the merit of prebaking, but here’s the thing. When I partially prebake a crust, I feel like seven times out of ten the end result is a crust that’s just a little bit annoyingly too hard. It doesn’t affect the taste of the pie so much, and isn’t as annoying as a soggy crust would be, but it’s definitely off-putting when you go to cut a piece of crust with a fork and it just doesn’t happen. And then you have to pick up the whole end part of your slice of pie and shove it into your mouth like a caveman. In front of your company. I exaggerate slightly but still. I need to find a balance here…perhaps by cutting down the time I allow the crust to partially prebake? I’ll get back to ya’ll on this.

(After you’ve baked one or two chess pies, you start to develop a Southern accent. Word.)

I agree that this final picture may have been taking things a little too far….but let’s roll with it, shall we?

The chess pieces hungrily eye the remainder of the chess pie. (Except for the knight, who’s oblivious. He’s only a horse, after all.)

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