Banoffee Pie

Our Sunday nights have been a little brighter these past two weeks with the return of Downton Abbey. Mike and I were late to the game with this show and last winter we spent our evenings catching-up (binging, would actually be more accurate) on the first two seasons, complete with gin and tonics in hand.  We were both even a little depressed for a few days once we finished season two - such a long wait ahead of us!  The third season has already been so much fun to watch, with plenty of drama, zippy one-liners, and Mary's wedding.  And can we talk about poor Edith?  I couldn't stop crying for her last week! What a nightmare!  

As much fun as the drama is upstairs, I am equally, if not more so, drawn to the personalities of those downstairs, which is probably because I have no traceable line of royalty in my English ancestors (I'll continue to hold out hope for the Scottish side).  Unlike the formal, massive dinner table upstairs, every time they show the servants eating dinner or enjoying a cup of tea, I just want to pull up a chair and sit around their long communal table.  And I imagine Banoffee Pie, an old English dessert layered with gooey toffee, ripe banana slices, and whipped cream, would be something happily shared among the servants on a rainy evening with a big pot of tea.  

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BANOFFEE PIE
Adapted from Gail Simmons for My Last Supper
Makes 1 9-inch pie

This recipe calls for making your own toffee, but you can easily substitute a good-quality store bought version to reduce the preparation time.  Better yet, make your own dulce de leche on a lazy afternoon and keep the cans stocked so you can whip this dessert up on even the shortest of notice.

1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
8 ounces chocolate wafer cookies, broken into pieces
1 tablespoon sugar
Pinch of table salt
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
2 large bananas
1 pint heavy cream

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• Remove the labels from the can of sweetened condensed milk and place on the bottom of a large stockpot.  Fill the pot with water, completely covering the can, then cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat.  When the water is boiling, reduce the heat to low and boil for 3 hours, keeping the pot covered.  Be sure to frequently check the water level: the can should be covered by water at all times and the pot should never be allowed to boil dry, otherwise the can may explode.  Remove the can from the water and allow to cool completely at room temperature before opening.
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• In a food processor, pulse the cookies until fine; transfer to a bowl and whisk in the sugar and salt.  Add the melted butter and stir until coated.  Press the crumbs over the bottom of the pie plate and up the sides.  Refrigerate the crust until firm, about 30 minutes.
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• When the crust is chilled, remove from the refrigerator and spread the toffee over the base of the pie crust. Peel and slice the bananas into 1/4-inch thick rounds, then arrange on top of the toffee.
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• In a large mixing bowl, whip the cream until it holds barley stiff peaks.  Spoon the whipped cream evenly over the bananas.  Serve immediately.

Bittersweet Chocolate Pecan Pie

Tomorrow I am joining the massive amount of New Yorkers hailing a cab early in the morning, loaded down with luggage and heading to the airport.  My little (and I do want the emphasize little) airplane will battle the impending winter storm and transport me to the mountains of Virginia.  Home for the holidays, though sadly without my favorite guy.

Going home means family, relaxation, sweet tea, and homemade cookies.  It means I am in the South again, where life is a little slower, a little sweeter. 

Simple Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

These past few months, I have so badly wanted clear the appliances off my tiny kitchen counter and make a delicious summer fruit pie from scratch. From cutting the cold fats into the chilled flour, to shaping the pie dough into a crust, to filling the crust with beautiful fruits from the farmer’s market, macerated with just a hint of sugar – I craved the familiar process and it’s beautiful reward.

Even if I hadn't been short on time, I was short on people willing to consume an entire pie. Mike doesn’t care for fruit desserts, which means I would have the task of finishing the whole pie all by myself. Not that I haven’t had moments in life where I could polish off the entire dessert, but I generally try to avoid such situations.

Fourth of July weekend offered the perfect opportunity for me to bake a pie for a big group of friends. The pint of strawberries and bright pink stalks of rhubarb in my refrigerator, loot from a successful farmer’s market trip, just begged to be tossed with a bit of sugar and flour, then gently poured into a chilled crust and baked to golden perfection.

Pie Crust

Summertime is the perfect season for pie making – so many sweet, ripe fruits to chose from, so many flavor combinations to dream up. The problem? The sweltering heat of summer can make anyone nervous about creating that infamous crust. But if you follow a simple procedure – this means planning ahead and giving your dough plenty of opportunities to rest – you will soon be turning out your very own picture perfect summer pies. And if you can nail the procedure of making a pie crust in the summer heat, you will be an old pro just in time for apple pie in the fall.

Cube your butter in 1-inch squares and portion out your shortening. Refrigerate your fats, along with your sifted dry ingredients, until all components are very cold. If I plan ahead, I like to refrigerate the ingredients for about an hour before combining everything. If I decide at the last minute to make pie, I freeze the components for about 20 minutes.

You might be skeptical of using shortening in your pie crust; you might even be tempted to replace the shortening with all butter. Don’t. You need both the butter and shortening – in equal portions – to achieve a perfectly flaky, flavorful pie crust. The butter provides the flavor and the shortening provides flakiness. If you replace one of the ingredients you will sacrifice either taste or flakiness in you final product.

Once everything is very cold, it is time to cut the fats into the dry ingredients. The key here is to keep everything as cold as possible, so minimal contact with warm hands or surfaces is important. Using a food processor is ideal, but if you are a little short on counter space – like myself – make the small investment in a pastry cutter. Work the fats into the dry ingredients as quickly as possible, until mixture resembles a coarse meal – some of the fats should remain in pea-sized pieces. It is important to not work the fats into too small pieces; small chunks should still be visible – these chucks will later be rolled out into the dough and, eventually, create flaky, delicious air pockets while the crust is baking.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Although the part of my childhood I spent in Maine was not lengthy, my memory of these years is rich with food and desserts lovingly crafted by my family members.

One of my great-grandmothers, Louise, will be forever remembered by her infamous pies - a tender, flaky crust encasing some seasonal fruit, sweetened just perfectly with a bit of sugar.

As a little girl, I remember walking through the long airway between the garage and her kitchen, where numerous pies rested after just being plucked from the warm oven.  The dewy, summer Maine breeze danced with the strands of emerging steam as the pies cooled and the fruit thickened.

This gesture of kindness and welcoming continued when we visited my grandmother, who would always be sure my Dad had a freshly baked strawberry rhubarb pie awaiting him.

She would purchase the strawberries from a local farm stand, cut the long strands for rhubarb from her own garden and, with the help of a little flour, sugar and butter, create something that transported my Dad back to simpler times.

I never cared for the taste of rhubarb until this summer.  Although my love affair has been short-lived, yet thoroughly enjoyed these last few months, I have also come to love the addition of sweet strawberries to the tart stalks of rhubarb.

My Dad visited NYC this past weekend, a long two years since I moved here.  He doesn't care for the city too much.

Although I had fun trips planned, I decided a strawberry rhubarb pie would prove to be a good insurance piece.  After all, if he ended up hating all other parts of his time in the city, I figured he could fondly remember the taste of summer and his childhood in a slice of homemade pie.

Unlike my grandmother, I do not have tall stalks of rhubarb growing in my garden, so I relied on the friendly farmers at the Union Square farmer's market to assist my venture.

I carefully rolled out my pie crust, filled it with the cut strawberries and rhubarb, which I had allowed to mascerate in an equal amount of brown and granulated sugar.

A lattice top secured the fruit and a sprinkle of turbinado sugar provided a crunchy texture.

This time around, I think my Dad actually enjoyed parts of the city.

But, I suspect, it helped to sweeten him up with a piece of this pie before we hit the town.

Happy Pi Day!

Today is March 14th. 3.14 = pi. And, in baking world, pi = pie!

For my pie, I was hoping to incorporate some of the plump blackberries which have recently graced the shelves at the corner grocery store.

But a monsoon hit Manhattan yesterday and I absolutely refused to go outside and risk being swept away by the rain and wind. This left me to the mercy of whatever I could scrounge from my pantry, the refrigerator and the freezer.

I created an apple-cranberry filling, sweetened by sugar, cinnamon and minced crystallized ginger. Instead of making a traditional 9" pie, half of which would have gone to waste, I created heart-shaped pocket pies.

I plan on serving these after dinner this evening with a scoop of homemade cinnamon ice cream.

Are you whipping up a pie to "celebrate" the day?  What filling did you choose?