easy as Apple Pie.

 Summer was winding down as I reached my 12th pie~  Dutch Apple with a
crumb top.
I choose a Crumb top because I hadn't enough dough to make a crust top.

But thanks to my new and improved old recipe this puppy turned out pretty well.
Forgetting  the fact I couldn't make those perfect fluted edges or that it hadn't cooked all the way through, it was agreed upon by the family...I was getting better.
I tried my hand at several different variations of the apple pie theme
all made with Freshly picked beauties from Edwards Apple Orchard.
It's obvious to me why the Apple Pie  is an American favorite.
Fabulously tasting- very Little work.
Truth be told, ya really can't screw  up an Apple Pie.*
Provided you can bake that dough to it's  perfect flaky crust, all the rest is just a matter of filling in the dots.  Dots of butter.
 "Kitchen" inside  joke.

Maybe I hit upon another secret here.
Are the Moms/chefs/cooks in our lives  pretending  how hard something is to get the well deserved but rarely given respect?
I think I made my amends with mom.
That was last week's blog.  Anyway...

#16 Sweet Potato w/ Coconut crust

I continued with the American favorite.
Autumn is a lovely time to bake.  I was really getting into this.. I managed to make a pie every other day.

#17 "boo-Berry"

I tried other seasonal goodies..
#16 Crunchy  Sweet Potato Pie with a Coconut Crust 
  #17  Boo-berry pie Halloween night.
 #18 yet another Apple pie made on  November  6th .
These three were lovely enough, yet I still could not stretch my dough  to reach over the edges of the pan.
 No big surprise.
The apples I used for the last pie were too thinly sliced making it very mushy.
I strongly suggest not to use Macintosh Apples for baking.
And then   there was  another  horrible mistake.
I choose to make a topping with "Splenda" instead of the usual mixture of  brown sugar and flour.

Ladies and Gentlemen may I present exhibit #1.
Apple Pie with a sugar free un-crumb top.
*yes, I can screw up an Apple Pie.

 

Now, there is a very good reason why I haven't posted photo's until  this blog.
 Not what you might be think... "Yeah, look at THAT one!"
"she must have some really nasty looking pies out there."
No.
I did share each photo of each pie I  made.
On  Face Book .
I know, I  am one of those people you love to hate.
" so and so is making Polenta"
"so and so is walking the dog"
Who gives a shit, right?
Yet, here I was blabbing about my pies.
I am a Face Book junkie.
I wrote and posted a photo album with each and every one of my pies.
Till one day while updating my Mac (i photo).. I mistakenly deleted my whole freaking album. 19 photos, stories and comments..gone!
It broke my heart.
What to do? What to do? How could I prove to the world I am learning how to bake, and counting the pies to the wedding day, HA!
So, THAT'S why  I decided to write this blog.
Here I could  share my journey, my failures, my observations of the pure folly of it all.
Maybe my photo's won't be deleted.

pie #19 Chocolate Carmel

 So why   am sharing the  photo of Pie#20.. what I now affectionately call "The Apple Splenda Not"
why I choose to make an Apple Pie with Splenda in the first place??
After I made a  sweet and Chocolaty Caramely Pie.. (pie #19)
Which was a masterpiece of delicious melting Chocolate, dripping down  the sides of my almost perfect crust..
the very next day after such a sweet sugary high...
my guy  discovered he is a type 2 diabetic.

Mom to the rescue

In the winter of 2006 I reluctantly  moved back home.
I didn't really want to give up my apartment, but facing a surgery without insurance is a scary thing. With no income for three months I'd lose my apartment for sure. Mother offered, I accepted.
Mom was now in her late 70's &  living alone since Dad died some 10 years earlier.
In all honesty I think some of my siblings had been wondering why I wasn't living with her sooner.
Once I got back on my feet and back to work, my siblings encouraged me to stay.
They were right; its nice to be home.
In the spring I tilled the south lawn and planted a garden.
Along the house we planted roses.
In the Summer we enjoy our wine on the deck watching Hummingbirds swoop in and around The Blue Salvia.
For the fist time in my life I was not seeing her as mom  I was finally seeing and  listening to her.
I had grown up from the rebellious punker. Now we could finally have our adult conversations. We shared the love of theater, discussing politics, light arguments about music.
I joked that we were two old broads, like the Rockford version of Grey Gardens.
 We laughed.
The  best part of  living at home again is the home cooking.
This wonderful woman  loves to cook. I do my best..
I have my specialties. I  love to make a  very spicy meat marinate, I  can grill chicken,  and I make kick- ass salsa.
ALL  of which I am told has too much garlic.  Cha!.. as if  there is such a thing as too much garlic!
 But nothing  can't hold a candle to her everyday cooking.
Making breakfast is one of my chores. I  enjoy that...  it doesn't require too much garlic.
that made  Mom happy.

 Obviously I think this woman is  awesome. But my God she blows me out of the water sometimes...
Mom is up at five o'clock sometimes 4 every morning.
She reads both local & Chicago papers front to back & has both crosswords puzzles Finished before I am even awake!
At 6:00 am  I  stumble downstairs and proceed to poaching  eggs with my eyes half opened. That's about all I can  to do at such a God awful hour.
As I was not the best of cooks  it was wise to leave the rest  to the expert.
And  boy howdy she is good.
But you know..when mom really shines?
Dinner.
She is a mom's mom.
She has the wealth of  experience, years and years... the tattered cook books and recipe cards from days gone by.
She still  loves to try new things all the time. One of her favorite lines while we dine.. "This tastes good to me.. it's a keeper" And to the big basket on top of the fridge it goes.
I  have been spoiled.

I knew someday I might start dating again and have to leave the  luxury of home cooking.
Unless I manage to start learning this for myself. Or maybe I'll get lucky and  snag a great guy who  loves to cooks. ( I know they are out there)
 It's better to learn this for myself.
I want the knowledge.

I  started copying recipe cards and trying my hand at her sauces and Lasagna.
I was learning.

Lets fast forward a bit...
 As I have said, I started this venture in July, July 25th  2010 to be precise.
After taking a small break, I return in mid. August
I tried my best with that stupid recipe video  from  the YouTube .
It was a supreme disappointment.
I needed more than a  break.
I cheated.
I used Pre-made shells. Pie # 6-8  were Various Quiches.
Being a great breakfast cook.. I made excellent quiches.. and I needed something to boost my self esteem.
 Quiche is the perfect pie. A little egg, sour cream diced veggies thrown into a  ready to go shell.
Sweet.
Got a few of those under my belt.
What I needed to do now was find a better pie dough recipe.
Why hadn't I even looked  in Mom's beat-up ol' recipe box?
She finally came to my rescue and handed to me the                                                              Hilda Mars' Pie Dough recipe.
She also told me a secret...
use a very old recipe  with a brand  new approach.. a food processor.
Now we're  cooking with gas.

Sunday is Pie day

Honest to Pete, I don't know where some people get the energy.
Some days it all I can do just to get up outta bed and head out to my crappy job.
  Well now....That's not entirely true. The part about my job being "crappy".
  I like what I do, really.
I work in a greenhouse...tending plants and helping customers, It's pretty cool &   I am good at what I do.
  Since discovering the joys of gardening myself, I think I understand what other enthusiasts want, helping customers find that perfect plant or garden design.. that makes all the other crap  I do bearable.
But in all honesty, I'd rather not work .

I have lazy tendencies.
I'd rather have a jammy day.
I'd  rather have several jammy days.

Unfortunately, the world doesn't permit me to live my life in  my P.J's.
And while I'm on the subject..
the world should not permit ANYONE  to live their life in P.J.'s,, ah hello??
Wal-mat shoppers !?!
Anyway..
We have to get up off our butts, get dressed and make the dough.
(hee hee)
 So YES .. I am lazy but, NO..
I  haven't the time for it anymore.
The Pie Quest shall be won.
I am committed to this  really I am.. but, week nights I have so little time.

I'll have to do my baking on the week-ends.
Sunday became Pie Day.
Simple enough.
My guy and I settled into a comfortable routine.
He'd pick me up on Fridays and I'd have my over night bag, C-PAP,
For those of you who don't know.. this is a sleep apnea machine..
yeah I know.. sexy, huh? Also an  assortment of baking utensils.
I borrowed Mom's rolling pin.
By Sunday morning I'd have my recipe from whatever site  popped  first, and away I'd go.
Pie #2   French Silk Pie.
I continued to have problems with my crust.
I figured it's OK if its a little  thick in parts,right?
Thick does not equal good.
And forget about the pinch, UGH!!!!!!!!
Again, the  filling wasn't the  problem.
The following week-end I made #3 #4 and #5  One large and two mini
 Coconut Creams.
Or as we now call them The Disastrous  Coconut Cream nightmares.
No words can describe the sheer pain it was to try to bite into that crust.
This  crust  actually  had the consistency of limestone, the taste wasn't  far from that either.
We'd ate spoon fulls of the filling and avoided the shell all together.

That's it...
This pie dough recipe had to go.

The first Pie

 I am not a baker.
I have never baked a single thing  before I agreed to a bet of  baking  365 pies~ from scratch none the less!
The reality of this bet, of just how long  it would take  to reach said amount
never leaped into my mind.
I was blinded by that future ring on my finger.
The night I baked my first pie (which was Blueberry) the worst of all possible things happened :  it was nearly perfect.
By some divine intervention, or desperation, I managed to pull it off.
Now how can that  be a problem?
I'll tell ya...that success planted within me a false hope
 that (and pardon the expression)
this was going to be a cake walk.
HA.
How I managed to bake that pie truly WAS a miracle. Here I was ..in a kitchen with no mixing bowls, no rolling pin, and no cookbook.
No problem.
I Googled~ found a video on YouTube and played it over and over again till
I "got it".  Next, download a recipe from  allrecipes.com.
 OK... so I have my recipe, I have my how to video, check the cupboard, cool, I got the ingredients.
My most creative solution for the lack of one crucial  utensil was to use a Mexican Novena candle for a rolling pin. Everything was rolling along quite smoothly, sorta.  I didn't know at the time that dough isn't suppose to be sticky, and it needs to chill.
What made this pie  such a happy surprise was the filling.
The berry filling was solid and not the runny mess I assumed it would be.
In retrospect that  first pie wasn't really that good. For one thing,  it wasn't even cooked all the way!  I mean how could it??The crust was over a half inch thick! Oh well, it seemed good enough for us at the time. My guy was impressed... sweet.
It gave me the confidence to keep on going.
The next 5 or six proved to me that this wasn't as easy as pie.
And WTF  is up with that expression anyway?
Who ever came up with that one obviously never made a pie.
Making a dough is no  laughing matter. This is serious business.
If only I had paid attention In my Junior High Home Ec. class. Heck if only I had been cooking at all, but stubborn me, I feel sure as anything I can do this.

The triumphs & failures of making pie, and getting married.

Last July I began a project... to bake 365 pies, all from scratch and all for the sole purpose of getting my man to marry me.
I know...
sounds like something our mothers' might have done. "Impress the boy with your cooking, deary. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
But I am not my mother.
I have never done anything remotely like my mother.
At least that's how I use to be.
Back in the day.. (as we say) I was  not the  domestic type.
I never had room in my fridge for food.. pwff; that's for keeping beer cold.
The only meal I ate was usual the "Happy Hour" buffet.  I  never felt the  need to actually cook , why bother.
It was not uncommon for me take off  to Chicago or Madison  for a punk rock show at the drop of a hat.  Maybe be back to work the next day or not.
Being a domestic goddess was never in the game plan.
The boys I hung out with loved it, and we all thought we were having fun.
Fun  gets old real quick.
Through the years I started to take care of my house. The trashed out Punker look changed.
I  fixed  a few spaghetti dinners, scrambled a couple of eggs.
No big whoop. Easy.
I settled down, had a few live-in relationships.
Some were  good... most were not.
And through it all.. the thought of marriage never entered my mind.
Free and clear, no kids, no husband.... marriage is NOT necessary.
I am happy.
So why the change of heart?
Well I guess at the ripe old age of "never -you- mind" I finally grew-up.
Don't get me wrong. A woman doesn't need a marriage to be a happy grown up.
I have been a "grown-up"  for sometime now. And yes, I am happy with my life.
I garden, I clean, I have nice things in my home.
I still love Punk music, but I don't dress the part anymore, Thank God.
But suddenly I felt the need for what was missing. That one final step to the "normal" life I once hated.
Marriage.
I was hearing myself say things like, "Hi, I'd like to  introduce you to my husband."
   Or "Gee, we'd love to come to your Bar B.Q, let me just check with my husband and we'll get back with ya."
What's wrong with letting the world know, this is the man I love and we are committed to each other?
Damn it, I'll admit it... I want the that big ol' rock on my finger!
I want to marry the man I am dating and really in love with.
I told him this just a few months into our relationship. and just for the record, he does assure me he loves me, and  NO , I do not badger him with the subject.
The guy (having been married before) felt..
No.
No we shouldn't marry.
Well, that's not working for me.
Being a tough Irish broad, I am not giving up that easily.
  SO...let's get back to the beginning.
On this fateful evening of July, while discussing dessert plans he tells me...
"I'd love a pie.. can you bake a pie?" hell ya, If you can read a recipe, you can bake, right? To which he then replies.."If you bake me a pie..bake me a pie everyday, 365 pies, I'll marry you".
My jaw dropped.
I started to bake a pie.
Don't believe the lie folks, if you can read a recipe you can bake a pie.
No.
No you can't.
It became more complicated than I anticipated.
I'll  be writing more as the days process. As of this early February date .. I am
only on pie #41.
The pie a day plan was a bit  harder than I realized.
This is going to be a long long journey.
I wonder.. will marriage even  matter to a couple of
90 year old punks?