Worknight Dinner From Scraps

Tuesday nights are always a bit of a scramble for dinner at our house. With my first grader at Grandma's until I close the shop at 7 and husband at an evening class, we often get by on grilled cheese or worse. This was, of course, never my intention and I often think I'll plan a menu for the week, making something Monday night when I have the day off that can be transformed into various healthy, quick meals for the rest of the week. I mean, that's what so many magazines tell me I can do, yes? Here's what actually happens: Monday night's dinner is either all gone or sent off as lunch. I spend Tuesday cooking or prepping pie fillings, braising meats and rolling out dough. I close the shop as quickly as possible, race to my mom's house, get my daughter, race home smelling like sausage or beer braised beef or whatever the smelliest thing at work was that day and S. says, "mom I'm STARVING! What's for dinner?" While in my head I'm thinking, "the olives on the toothpick in the martini I'm about to make," but what I say is, "let me see what we have in the fridge".
And then it's the fridge's turn. There is food in our fridge. We're not one of those houses that only use it to store condiments and juice, but often it's full of things that need preparation. You know, ingredients. Raw vegetables, eggs, random bits of leftovers that should have been thrown in the bin days before, and of course, condiments. Sometimes it holds some sort of gem that I can morph into real food and last week I got lucky. Salvaging whatever edible goods I found in the produce bin and a peek in the freezer ended up producing one of S.'s favorite dinners yet.

With no time for shaking martinis I turned on the oven and cleared some space and set up a cook's snack.

I love a salad. But only a good salad. Throwing together marginal greens and a little oil and vinegar does not a salad make for me. Luckily on this day I had the remains of green produce that had once belonged to some other recipe but happen to go together beautifully: Butter lettuce, celery and fresh tarragon.

I would say it was more of a frantic tearing than actual chopping that put those together but they still seemed to be missing something. I really wished I had an avocado, but I hardly ever have an avocado when I really need one. I opted for some feta cheese instead. I should note, though, that the feta I had was one I brought from work (I use it in the greens and feta tarts for anyone who knows the shop) and it's an Israeli feta which is creamier and milder than the Greek version we're most used to. This is a survivalist style salad, however so if you're going to make it at home, for God's sake use whatever is handy.

By this time the frozen goodies are in the oven, S. is almost out of the shower (I don't think she knows I can hear her singing when the water is on) and it's time for dressing. Now, my kid has no problem with veggies. I don't know if we're just lucky or if it's because I've always refused to make two dinners. She eats what we put on the table or she doesn't eat and I can tell you with those options she always eats. But she's still only 7 so if I'm going to make this salad truly appealing I need one special thing:

S. is putting on pajamas, I'm turning off the oven and it's time to eat.

Oh, I almost forgot to show you what's in the oven. And don't judge, it was a long day and the fact that I managed a salad and the showering of a child all at the same time deserves a visit from our friend the chicken nugget.

Creative Outlets

I was already thinking of change before Otis Redding's "Change Gonna Come" started playing through the shop's computer. I was thinking of how things are always changing when you don't want them to and nothing seems to change when you are dying for something to change. Sure you can "visualize" it or "make" it, but in my experience change comes in two main ways: completely out of the blue with no warning or preparation and in small, invisible doses so that it's impossible to see the change happening and it can only be observed after the change has occurred. Much like a Supernova I suppose, but way less dramatic.

I began this blog what seems like ages ago as conduit for professional change. I had a 5 year old daughter who was entering school and a part time job that gave me overtime stress. I needed something tangible, something creative to do and make. That thing was making pies, which has always been a relaxing, introspective activity for me. Not-so-slowly that turned into the shop, which of course turned into work and now I'm back here looking for another change. Prepping vegetables, reading about food, planning menus and working out recipes every day has done what I never thought possible to my brain. It's made it a little bored of food. I'm oversaturated with thoughts, images and ideas of food. Filled to the brim with braised meats and vegetable tarts. I need to think about something else on a regular basis. I need a new happy place.

Oh, I still love kitchens, tables, beautiful dishes and the smells of a good kitchen. I love all the great stuff that food can do for a body and mind, not to mention a group of friends. Blame it on astrology, if you like. As an Aquarius I'm an idea person. I love planning big plans and here I am mired in the actual details. Who would have thought? So I do what one does when change is needed and none seems to be coming. Find an outlet, some way of incorporating the aspects I'm missing into the life I'm actually leading. Filling in the hard spaces with squishy inspirations. I can't tell you what this blog is about to become. My best guess is that it will be a digital mirror on my current obsessions and crazy ideas. I don't doubt you will find food here in one way or another as it's been the one constant of my work life since I was a teenager. Some ramblings about working in the food and beverage industry while raising a child and maintaining some semblance of married life, maybe just some pictures of pretty stuff I found on the internet. I suspect, though, that it will be a series of invisible, imperceptible variations that someday result in something different than what it is now. Or what I am now.

Now, excuse me while I enter today's happy place...

Website!

We haven't forgotten about this blog, but we do now have a real live website. Check it out at: www.immortalpieandlarder.com and let us know what you think! We'll be adding photos as things progress but it's got some good stuff on it already...

Finding Space

This is an ongoing theme for my life in general. Finding Space. This is the first time I think that theme has been so literal. Immortal Pie needs to grow, and to grow it needs space. The kind of space that has walls and windows and hopefully concrete floors and exposed ancient wood beams. I have begun the search for a bricks and mortar location for my fledgling pie-dom. For those of you who have not had the joy of wading through regulations, red tape, debt and the OLCC for the purpose of starting your own small business then it will be a glimpse into the scary world of self-employment. For those of you who are small business owners, maybe you can just leave me some constructive comments to help avoid unnecessary pitfalls. Either way, the end result should be more pie for everyone!

I'm Sorry I Neglected You, Dear Blog

Really, I am. I didn't mean to but I've been hard at work at other things. I'm really ready to try and mend this relationship though. I really really am. See, I've got some new pictures for you and I even started an Immortal Pie Facebook page. If that doesn't say love, then I don't know what does. Except that I'm almost ready to share delicious pies with the world, friend and stranger alike. How about this: if I promise not to neglect you again, will you promise to lead people to good pies? Deal. Here's some pie:

Thanks to Leah Verwey for the great photos. See more of her at www.leahverwey.com

Pie Sunday

In the interest of ever getting my pie recipes sorted out and getting my ass into a farmer's market booth, I have dedicated Sunday as Pie Day. Every Sunday shall be devoted to the creation of new pie recipes and the perfection of old ones. The goal, of course, is to make pies so delicious an delectable that friends and strangers alike will line up and pay me cold, hard cash for the opportunity to stuff their faces with my baked goods. This is a town of people who love to eat, care greatly about what they eat and where it comes from, and most dauntingly, know the difference between good food and outstanding food. My mission is to make outstanding pies, mostly savory, some sweet. 

This post is from my first Pie Sunday, January 11th. I made the following pies, and yes, feedback is more than appreciated...

Egg and Bacon Breakfast Pie (i.e. Hangover Pie):

Partial whole-wheat crust, maple cured bacon, Yukon Gold potatoes and organic eggs with cheddar cheese and that's pretty much it. The taste test consensus at the house was that it needs less potato and sausage instead of bacon. But ho doesn't love bacon? Nevertheless, sausage just has a bit more juiciness, which this pie definitely needed. Plus, to cure a hangover one really does need a bit more fat and meat. 

Verdict: valiant attempt, perfect with some tweaking.

Smoked Salmon Pot Pie:

             

Yum Yum Yum Yum. Me and my husband's favorite, although my parents were not down for some reason. Was it the fennel? The toasted dill seed crust? Too much lemon zest, not enough cream? I don't know, but the real truth is that smoked salmon is expensive and I'd really like to keep my pies at about $7 apiece. Seeing as I'm not married to a salmon fisherman, I'm not sure how feasible that will be. On a happier note, I give you:

Coconut Curry Chicken Pot Pie:

This was, hands down, the most successful experiment of the day. Delicious, moist, full of peas and carrots and those Yukon Golds again, as well as organic chicken. A bit messy for market eating, perhaps, but perfect to take home and reheat. This pie renewed my faith in my harebrained plan of pie-making-for-dollars. It made me think I might be able to do this. I might actually have a good, workable idea. 

Not-so-fancy French Pear Tart:

First off, I was a bit apprehensive about making another tart, seeing as how the last one was such drama. Thankfully, this one fared better AND I learned my lesson about the importance of sheet pans as carrying vessels. 

Loved loved the crust. Like regular pie crust except rolled in sugar instead of flour. Such a small thing that makes a big impact. The crust took on this super crunchy sugar shell, somewhat like a real Belgian waffle. Mmmm, shout out to the waffle window off Hawthorne! 

It was ridiculously easy to make (how un-French!) but it is not pear season. This is a tart that needs, no begs, to be made when pears are at their best, ripe-sweet, subtle and floral height. That one little detail, using fruit at its peak, really makes all the difference in the world (and what I believe really sets French pastries apart. Oh, and all the butter). The great thing about this tart though, was that it made perfect midnight snacks from the fridge. I began keeping a knife on top of it so I had easier sliver cutting access.  I will surely make this tart again. Just not until Fall.

Now to plan this Sunday...

Near Disaster Tart

You know how sometimes you'll be in the middle of something that seems to be going terribly wrong and wonder what on earth you did to deserve such karmic punishment, to only later find out that it was really a secret lesson, a blessing in disguise? This was my karmic tart. 

Behold, the Near Disaster Peanut Butter Honey Caramel Tart:

I saw this recipe in the newest edition of Bon Appetit magazine in an article about food trends for 2009. Apparently, peanut butter desserts are the next big thing. In the interest of research I took it upon myself to test this trend out.  Things began to fall apart almost immediately. After blind baking the tart crust without any filling, I went to remove it from the oven and my hand slipped, causing the bottom of the tart pan to separate from the sides and a portion of the side crust to break. Total disaster was avoided, most of the crust was intact but there was no way it was going to be a perfect tart now.  The next pitfall was a complete oversight, as (oh did I mention this was New Year's Eve and I had 2 hours after work to make a three course meal) I poured in the delicious honey-peanut-caramel filling into the shell without a thought of the broken crust. Thank Jebus that I had put the tart on a sheet pan because 10 minutes later there was my delicious filling oozing out the sides and bottom of the tart pan. My helpful husband built a hasty tin foil tart coozie and I scraped up the caramel ooze. Back in the oven it went, but duh! it was now cooking the caramel after a good 5 minute cool down and the filling, while tasty, was more old Snickers bar than gooey tart filling. I finished the next two layers of peanut butter whipped with icing sugar and dark chocolate ganache well enough, and everyone ate their piece, but it was far from what I'd imagined it to be when looking at the photo. 

Like any good religion-free soul searcher I wondered what lesson there was for me in this tart fiasco.  First off, I prefer pie to tart, that must now go without saying. Unless it's one of those amazing mini strawberry tarts that one gets in France. Second, like all luscious and enjoyable things in life baking cannot and will not be rushed, hurried, or otherwise sped up. This is not a speedy activity and never should be. One cannot rush perfect pie. Of course, this leads to the third Lesson of the Tart, perfection is an illusion. To seek perfection is an exercise in terminal frustration. It's true, there's a lot of Zen in pie-making...