And Everything Nice

Ever make the most perfect meringue you've ever managed to haul out of an oven and realize you've forgotten to prepare the good camera to photograph the moment? In other words, pics or it didn't happen! Derp!

Luckily I had my phone handy. And then it occurred to me this recipe is actually blog-worthy, being the unabashed bastard child of two different recipes and my own twisted twisted mind. It's the Fitz-lemon of meringue pies. But it is delicious.




The original inspiration came from this recipe for spiced lemon curd. Most people have carb or fat cravings when the days get short and the wind gets cold. I get citrus cravings. Feeling a little one-note after a run of key lime pies, I started hankering for lemon. It was the addition of cardamom and ginger that caught my attention, and the slightly darker, more complex custard in the pretty little sealed glass containers. Something about it made me think of the medieval Arab territory encompassing Spain and North Africa that became a booming academic and cultural center while the rest of Europe was sunk in the Dark Ages. Both a literal and a figurative bright spot.


So in the spirit of warmth and openness, I give you pie.

Note: the local grocery had these enormous "juice" lemons on sale for 50 cents apiece, so that's what I used, keeping in mind that the juice of just one of these is probably equivalent to the amount in 2 regular lemons...

Note #2: the original (non-spiced) pie recipe comes from The Essential Dessert Cookbook, published by Bay Books 2010.

Note #3: the resulting lemon curd is on the tart and spicy side, so for more sweetness increase sugar to 1 cup and for less spice halve the cardamom and ginger.

Mama Fang's Spiced Lemon Meringue Pie
Crust:
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into chunks
1/4 cup cold water

Filling:
zest of 2 large lemons (optional: keep in mind you will strain these out later, but I think it adds flavor if not actual texture)
juice of 4 large lemons (approximately 1 cup)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons cardamom
1-1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
6 large egg yolks (whites will be used for meringue)
1-1/3 sticks unsalted butter, cut into chunks

Topping:
6 egg whites
1 teaspoon cardamom
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar

Make the crust:
Sift flour and powdered sugar into a medium to large bowl. Work butter into flour (I prefer to do this with my fingers because I'm an overgrown child with a tiny kitchen and no electric mixing implement) until mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Add water a little bit at a time, mixing constantly, until dough just forms. Roll into a ball, flatten into a disc, cover with plastic wrap (or a fold-top sandwich bag works fine for me) and refrigerate until ready to use, at least 20 minutes.

When ready, roll out dough between two sheets of wax paper (wax paper, sprinkle of flour, dough disc, sprinkle of flour, wax paper, then roll the hell out of it with a glass or whatever heavyish cylindrical rolling object you possess) until large enough to fit into a 9 inch pie plate. Line pie plate with pastry (I usually interpose a layer of foil for easy lift when serving, but you may omit this if you're not a fan of aluminum foil), and refrigerate until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 350F. When it's heated, line pastry with a sheet of wax paper and spread a layer of baking beads (or dry pinto beans, whatever, you ain't gonna eat these) evenly over the paper. Bake for 10 minutes, remove the paper and beans, and bake for another 10 minutes or until lightly golden. Remove from oven and allow to cool completely.

Make the filling:
In a medium saucepan, whisk together lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, cardamom, and ginger, and place on the stove over low heat. Add egg yolks one at a time, whisking well between additions. Add butter and whisk until completely melted.

Once butter is completely melted and whisked in, increase heat to medium and cook, whisking constantly, until custard thickens to approximately the consistency of...a thin vanilla pudding, for us American public school brats who grew up on the stuff?

Remove from heat immediately and strain into a bowl. Cover with plastic wrap (the plastic should be touching the top of the custard to avoid forming an unappetizing-looking skin during the cooling process) and chill in the refrigerator until set, approximately 20 minutes to 1 hour, or overnight if you want to prep ahead of time.

Make the meringue:
Beat egg whites, cardamom, and ginger in a large bowl until soft peaks form. Add sugar approximately 1/2 cup at a time and beat well after each addition, until mixture is thick and glossy.

Avengers assemble!
Preheat oven to 425F.

Pour chilled filling into cooled pastry shell. Spread meringue evenly over top, forming peaks (I found this easier using the whisk rather than a spatula--who knew?).

Bake for 5-10 minutes, checking after 5, until meringue is lightly browned.

You may serve hot and impress your guests, or chill in the fridge until ready to unveil the beauty.

Oh, and warn your audience about the spice part. They may ignore you at their own peril, of course, but full disclosure nonetheless.


Now go forth and walk on sunshine! Or, really, don't, because that would mean either wicked solar flares or global warming gone ballistic or nuclear holocaust, and I don't want the end to be that nigh!

Breaking the Silence (OK Not Really)

Not, in fact, a political post. The family of one of my ex-boyfriends used to troll me on Facebook by calling me Taylor Swift, not a compliment (no offense, Taylor, I actually quite loved the Red album!), because I tend to...write what I know. So, socioeconomic language aside, this is really more a poem about the men I know.

A Luxury

I'm the woman you

tell your shrink about:

the one who should

be madder than a loon

but isn't

because she can't:

one of those who,

watching you brunch

bottomlessly on breakdowns,

Roman orgy on defeat,

steam in your saunas

of self-pity, observes how

letting go is a disease

for those who can

afford the taste

and find it, richly,

to their liking.

Now, speaking of putting a bit of myself into the things I make, my next knitting pattern (to be Ravelried sometime in the Christmas season) is also about relationships. Don't let that put you off, though, it's also a lace half-pi shawl that, if all goes well, may turn out gorgeous and help those of you needing to blow off some scraps from a stash.

Because, apparently, moving on is the theme of the day?

It's that or being Cinna from the Hunger Games series...

Apple Madness

I love apples in much the same way that the Eleventh Doctor loves apples ("Can I have an apple? All I can think about...I love apples! Maybe I'm having a craving."). This time of year I can't seem to get enough of them: the juiciness, the sweet-tartness, the crunch, the heft of one in your hand should you need a makeshift projectile weapon. So when Fairway was doing a sale on organic honeycrisps, I went all out and bought an entire bag. And proceeded to eat apples. All. The. Time. So. Many. Apples. "That's rubbish. What is that?" Exactly the same way the Eleventh Doctor loves apples.

So, to make lemonade and mixed metaphors of the situation, what does one do to get rid of a sack of apples? Improvise apple bread, that's what! This recipe borrows heavily from one for sweet potato bread found here. Except unlike its sweet potato cousin the apple steams for a shorter period and doesn't get mashed to within an inch of its life (you may mash it gently, or not so gently, if you wish, but it's really not going to change anything). Also, because my sweet tooth is...rather sensitive...I nixed a little bit of the sugar, went darker with the rest, and gave the bread a little extra proteinaceous heft by getting rid of some leftover hazelnut flour and chopped walnuts from my pantry. By the way, you can do just fine without the nuts if you're allergic or just don't like them.

Honeycrisp Apple Bread

Wet Ingredients:
2 apples, chopped (I left the peel on, but I like fiber)
1 stick butter, melted
1/4 cup Greek yogurt
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract

Dry Ingredients:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup hazelnut flour (you may skip and make all AP flour here)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup dark brown sugar, lightly packed
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves (I have whole cloves so took the berry of about a dozen of these and ground them between my fingers--seems to work)
pinch of salt
1/4 cup walnuts, finely chopped

Preheat oven to 350F. Line a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan with foil (and/or grease it with your lubricant of choice: butter, oil, Crisco, cooking spray, motor oil, whatever floats your boat).

Chop apples into a microwave-safe bowl, sprinkle in about a tablespoon of water, cover with plastic wrap and microwave on high for 5 minutes. Remove carefully from microwave, place in medium mixing bowl, and mash slightly with a whisk.

Add butter and yogurt, and when mixture has cooled slightly, whisk in eggs one at a time until fully combined. Whisk in vanilla extract.

In a large mixing bowl, combine dry ingredients except for walnuts, sifting until completely mixed. Stir in walnuts.

Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and whisk gently until just combined, i.e. all the dry stuff is wet and your mixture resembles very chunky batter (or...apple sick? It looks a little barfy, but tastes delicious, and really who cares so long as the end result looks and tastes like win?).

Pour into prepared loaf pan, place in oven, and bake for 50-60 minutes, or until top is golden and bread is springy and no longer comes off on your toothpick/knife/tester thingy. Check on your bread at about the 30-45 minute mark and tent with foil if the top is browning too quickly.

Allow to cool approximately 10-15 minutes before turning out onto a rack or dish to cool completely. Serve immediately or store in foil/plastic wrap at room temperature or in the fridge until such time as you choose to devour it.


Some people carve faces in their apples. I bake them into submission.

Welcome Back to My Kitchen

"I love cooking with wine. Sometimes I even put it in the food."
     --quote attributed to Julia Child

As I say, welcome. It's been a good long while, in part because I haven't had a whole lot to put on here lately. Alas, like gaggles of knitters all around the world, I have discovered the joys of Ravelry, and as a lace knitter and fearless designer of charted confections, I found it easier to work under the platform of a website that allows me to upload PDF files. So in the meantime, I've sort of let this blog go to seed. But there are other things I experiment with besides knitting designs, and so it's time to give this blog a new purpose...or something. Or at least a few off-the-walls pie recipes a la "Waitress."

The recipe in question today is Cranberry Limeade Pie. This was a confection dreamt up over the produce aisles at my local grocery ("Hmmm...what's on sale today? Cranberries and limes? I dig it."). As some of my test-tasters pointed out, since there's a tendency to associate limes with summer and cranberries with fall, this is the perfect mishmash for the change of seasons, which in New York is happening very late and very stupidly this year (Thanks, global warming!). This pie doesn't indulge in the usual mawkish blend of cinnamon and nutmeg that you find in everything this time of year, so be warned. It is tart. Very tart. And you will like it.

(Mama Fang's) Cranberry Limeade Pie

Crust:
1-1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon brown sugar
pinch of finely ground sea salt
zest of 1 medium lime
1 stick cold unsalted butter
1/4 cup cold water

Filling:
8 ounces fresh cranberries
zest of 1 lime
juice of 2 limes
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon corn starch

Prepare the crust:
Combine flour, sugar, salt, and lime zest in a medium bowl. Cut butter into small pieces and blend into flour mixture using fingertips or food processor (growing up in a "why-you-bake-that" traditional Chinese household, I use my fingers to avoid questions). When your mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs (yes, there will be little chunks of butter, that's fine), add the water slowly and stir until dough just comes together. Shape into a ball or disc, cover in plastic wrap (or put in a sandwich bag) and refrigerate until ready to use, at least 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350F.

In a medium bowl, combine cranberries, lime zest, lime juice, and sugar, and mix well.

Roll out about 2/3 of the dough (I use two sheets of wax paper and a drinking glass, so I won't judge how!) into a large circle and press into bottom of an 8-inch pie plate. Trim overhang and add it to your reserved dough for the lattice.

Pour cranberry limeade mixture into pie shell. If you feel like torturing your test-tasters, slice up another lime into fine half-moon slices and coat in sugar, then arrange artfully over the top.

Roll out remaining dough into strips and arrange over top of pie.

Bake at 350F for about 40 minutes or until fruit filling is bubbly and thickened.

 Remove from oven and allow to cool completely before serving. Top with whipped cream or something if desired, and go forth and torture your coworkers.

And if you're not sure about the pie and prefer lace shawls instead, go to my Ravelry store for free knitted goodness.

Until the next time!