I have this issue with cheesecake. The issue is that if it is in my fridge, or available for purchase on a dessert menu, or available for purchase within walking distance, or even capable of being created with ingredients in my apartment, I have exactly 0% ability to resist it. As a result I make a point of not buying cream cheese very often. If I don’t have that one essential component, I can pretend that I’m happy living a life where I don’t eat cheesecake every single day for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert, right Right??

I live for good cheesecake. But I am kind of picky about what makes one good. There are few things more disappointing than cheesecake that looks delicious and is, well, meh. If it’s too lemony or too dry or too rich or too dense or has too much topping or not enough or has too many mix-ins or just a gross combo of them or the crust is too thick or some crazy person put CINNAMON in it I get really cranky.

Most of the time, when it’s time to make cheesecake again, I fall back on two, trusty recipes I’ve used for a long time. The first is a classic, baked cheesecake that, actually, I’ve only shared here in a version dressed up for Thanksgiving. The other I fashion exclusively in miniature form, a holiday tradition in my family as essential as the tree and the Home Alone soundtrack.

But this summer, I’ve been reveling in the availability of locally-grown sweet cherries (difficult to obtain in both Columbus and Durham), and a cherry cheesecake seemed like just the ticket. And while we are “enjoying” the high-nineties here in Denver, I’m pleased to report that the oven was only on for a few minutes, and even that is not totally required if you don’t want to.

The crust is made of vanilla wafers, but you can easily swap in graham cracker crumbs if you like. They’ll need to be finely ground, which you can do with a food processor (lots of cleaning) or with a plastic bag and rolling pin or meat tenderizer (not much cleaning and way more fun). I like my crusts a little toasty, so I blast it in the oven for a bit, but you can also eat this sucker raw. Your call.

The filling is composed of a magical dairy medley: cream cheese, goat cheese, sour cream, and heavy cream. Also sugar and vanilla and lemon juice. Because the cream is whipped and folded into the tart cheese mixture, it creates a somewhat airy cheesecake that will likely give you a false sense of empowerment when evaluating how many slices to wolf down.

Then, for an agonizing two hours, we wait. Because this recipe doesn’t benefit from the structure of eggs baked into the cake, it finds its structure in the freezer. After freezing, move it to the fridge for 45 minutes before serving so you’re not actually serving cheesecake ice cream. (On second thought, that sounds amazing and I should try serving it frozen next time.)

While the cake is freezing, it’s time to make the most seductive looking fruit sauce in the known universe. I mean it, this stuff is SULTRY. Composed of fresh cherries, sugar, balsamic vinegar, and just a bit if corn starch to thicken up the juices, it’s simple and beautiful and a perfect celebration of this gorgeous tree fruit. Half of the cherries are added to the mixture raw at the very end, which lends a fresh bite that’s typically hard to find in pie toppings, pie fillings, and the like.

I mean SERIOUSLY.

Chill the cherry sauce for a while so it doesn’t melt your cheesecake when you add it. Once it and your cheesecake are ready for serving, pop the ring off the springform pan and top generously.

As a side note, the cherries are extremely delicious on their own, so it’s totally cool if you want to add extra to each slice once it is served. Or eat them with a spoon for breakfast.

This cheesecake will allegedly last a week in the fridge, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

(Almost) No-Bake Cheesecake with Fresh Cherry Sauce
Adapted from Martha Stewart

Note: The (Almost) in this recipe is there because I like a toasted crumb crust, even in the summer. BUT. You can definitely eat the crust raw. Just put the whole pan in the fridge after you’ve pressed the crust into the base until you are ready to add the filling.

For the Crust
6 oz vanilla wafers, finely ground
4 T salted butter
2 T granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 450°F. Grind vanilla wafers in a food processor, or, to make your life easier, crush them in a gallon-sized zippered bag with a rolling pin or blunt meat tenderizer. Combine crumbs, melted butter, and sugar in the bottom of a 9″ springform pan. Press the mixture into the bottom of the pan with a fork. Bake for 10 minutes, then refrigerate until filling is ready.

For the Filling
1 c sour cream, room temperature
8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
4 oz soft goat cheese, room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp lemon juice
2/3 c granulated sugar
1 c heavy cream, chilled

Beat sour cream, cream cheese, goat cheese, vanilla extract, lemon juice, and 1/3 c of sugar in a stand mixer until smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl several times to ensure smoothness. Remove mixture to a medium bowl.

Whip the remaining 1/3 c sugar and the cream until soft peaks form. Fold into cheese mixture until evenly distributed. Spread evenly into the crust. Freeze for at least two hours, then refrigerate for at least 45 minutes before serving.

For the Topping
12 oz fresh sweet cherries, halved and pitted
1/4 c granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp balsamic vinegar
1 T corn starch
1 T water

In a small glass or bowl, mix together the corn starch and water. Set aside. In a small pot, combine half of the cherries, sugar, and balsamic vinegar. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat and cover, simmering for 5 more minutes. Add the cornstarch mixture and cook for another 2-3 minutes until sauce has thickened slightly. Remove from heat and add in remaining cherries.

To serve, spread the cherry mixture over the cheesecake, slice, and enjoy. Or, spoon the cherries over each slice individually.

The pies my mom did make were never, ever, double-crusted fruit pies. If we did have a pie for dessert, it was typically composed of a pre-made graham cracker crust, a box of pudding mix, and a mound of Cool Whip.

And you know what I freakin’ loved it.

To this day, while I will certainly eat a slice of apple, cherry, or other fruity pie if it’s presented to me with a sizable scoop of vanilla ice cream, the pies that I dream of are the cold, creamy, pudding-ish pies that I grew up on.

This pie follows in that tradition, though with some notable modifications. First, I love making my own graham cracker crusts. I like a heavier crumb with more crunch, and I like that I can control the level of sweetness and stickiness by adding as much or as little sugar and butter as I like when whirling it together myself.

A food processor makes this a very simple task, but I made my own crusts for years with a gallon-size ziploc bag and a rolling pin, so don’t feel that a food processor is required to make a delightful crust.

The biggest shock value of this pie is that its bulk comes not from cream, nor milk, nor eggs. It’s tofu. Combined with a bag of semisweet chocolate chips and a bit of amaretto, it provides a blank canvas with a delightfully smooth texture.

My favorite, favorite aspect of this pie is the prep. It’s a cinch! The crust bakes for a bit, and you’ll have to melt the chocolate, but beyond that there is no cooking required. No lengthy bake in the oven, no day-long cooling. After a couple hours in the fridge to firm it up, this pie is ready for serving.

My advice Let your friends and family taste this rich delight of a dessert, and then tell them it’s made of tofu. They won’t believe you!

Dark Chocolate Amaretto Pie
Adapted from Alton Brown

Note: The original recipe calls for coffee liqueur rather than amaretto. I prefer amaretto, but you could really try any liqueur you like that pairs nicely with chocolate.

6 oz graham crackers
1 T granulated sugar
5 T unsalted butter, melted
12 oz semisweet chocolate chips
scant 1/3 c amaretto liqueur
2 tsp vanilla extract
14 oz package silken (or soft) tofu, drained
1 T honey

Preheat oven to 350°F. Use a food processor or a plastic bag and rolling pin to reduce graham crackers into crumbs. Add granulated sugar and melted butter to crumbs and pulse a few more times until combined. Press the crumb mixture into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie plate and bake for 15 minutes.

While the crust bakes, wash the food processor bowl and blade so they can be used for the filling. Remove the crust form the oven, set aside, and allow to cool completely.

Combine chocolate chips, amaretto, and vanilla extract in a small saucepan. Heat over medium low and stir with a rubber spatula just until chips have melted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Cut the tofu into chunks and add them to the food processor bowl. Add the chocolate mixture and the honey to the food processor bowl. Spin until mixture is smooth, then pour it into the cooled crust. Refrigerate for at least two hours or until the filling sets firm.

Serve cold in thin slices – it’s quite rich!

But this is a food blog and food blogs in the United States simply MUST address Thanksgiving. I’m thrilled to say that Sierra (if you don’t know her by now, here’s a little intro) has volunteered to guest post one of her most precious Thanksgiving recipes! Sadly, I didn’t get to eat any of this gorgeous dessert, but I’m anxious to give the recipe a try when I return from the Sunshine State.

I hope you enjoy Sierra’s post, and I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving!

Pumpkin Chiffon Pie, by Sierra H.

I know we just met, but I’m going to tell you a secret. This is something that I have hidden deep inside for as long as I can remember, and it weighs on my mind every Thanksgiving season.

I hate classic pumpkin pie.

There, I said it. I’ll eat it, but I’d almost just as rather eat pumpkin-scented lotions and candles. If you’ve been following Kristi’s chronicle of wedding cake baking, then you’ll know that I adore pumpkin, but the hard, dense, often over-sweet classic pumpkin pie just isn’t my thing.

It isn’t pumpkin pie’s fault. The blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of one lady: Grammy LoLo. My father’s mother, Grammy LoLo (you can call her that, too, by the way, everyone does) gave us the tradition of another kind of pumpkin pie: one that is light and airy, pumpkin-filled, and gorgeous light orange with just a teeny bit of pure whipped cream to make it the perfect end to a holiday meal (or a stunning post-Thanksgiving breakfast). In our house, we always just called it The Chiffon, and it had a special place in the Thanksgiving preparatory kitchen, often the day before the real craziness began.

This pie kind of begins backwards, with making and cooking the crust. I’ve fluted my pie edges with fork tines, exactly the way Grammy showed me when I was 9. You can get much fancier if you wish. Don’t poke holes in the bottom of your crust to help it stay flat—the butter and sugar will seep through them and glue your crust to the pan. This was the first time I tried pie weights; it worked quite well, but they aren’t crucial.

The crust comes out after a 10 minute bake, and the sugary, nutty goodness goes in. It bakes for 5 more minutes, and then you have to let it cool totally. At home, all hot things would go out to the back deck under a tea towel (it wasn’t rare to have snow already in Colorado), but here, it must simply wait on the counter.

Meanwhile, you can prepare for the pumpkin part. If you’re making your pumpkin puree from pumpkins, extra points for you! If you are using canned, make sure you have prepared pumpkin, and not pumpkin pie mix. If you try it and it takes like you’re halfway to pie, then you will have to brave the store again. You are in control of adding the sugar and spices, not the canning people.

Fun fact: 3/4 cup of milk is less than the amount of water in a cumulus cloud the size of a bus, but more than the amount of table salt in a large human.

If you have a double boiler, this is the time to bust it out. If you don’t have one, you can use a bowl nicely fit into the top of a saucepan. Make sure it will be deep enough for the ingredients as well as sturdy—you don’t want to tip hot pumpkin all over yourself during stirring. In the top of your double boiler device, combine sugar, gelatin, salt and spices. Once water comes to a gentle boil, stir in beaten egg yolks, pumpkin and milk.

The purpose of the double boiler is to heat the ingredients very slowly and gently. If you are very careful and patient, you can heat the mix directly in a saucepan, just make sure you never stop stirring. In a double boiler, you want to stir several times a minute, but it doesn’t have to be constant.

For fun (and science!) I got out the infrared thermometer to see how hot the pumpkin mix gets at the end of 20 minutes, which was right around 150°F. This is perfect, because the gelatin needs to hit 140°F in order to activate for proper setting. After 20-25 minutes, pull the bowl carefully off of the saucepan and transfer the pumpkin mix to a larger bowl. This will give you room later to fold in the egg whites properly, as well as help the mix cool more quickly.

Meringue is a tricky creature. This was one step I wasn’t allowed to do as a kid, probably because I was an enthusiastic stirrer. Go slow, try to flatten the meringue as little as possible for the fluffiest, airiest, dreamiest pie.

So I’ll say it: Pumpkin Chiffon Pie totally ruined me for all other pumpkin pies. It is a wee bit harder to make than classic pie, but trust me—try it once and you may find yourself bearing the same holiday secret, too.

Pumpkin Chiffon Pie
Grammy LoLo’s Recipe

A Note About Eggs: This recipe relies on meringue, which is uncooked egg whites. For curiosity, I measured the temperature of the egg yolk and pumpkin mixture while it was heating, and was satisfied that they were heated well past 140 degrees for about 5 minutes, which should be sufficient for pasturization. If you or your loved ones cannot risk consuming raw eggs, there are pasteurized egg products that you can buy. Since I have never tried them, I would love some feedback about how they work.

Pie crust: store bought (I like Pillsbury roll-out) or a half batch of this home-made one
1/3 cup butter
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup pecans, chopped

3/4 cup sugar for pie, 1/4 cup sugar for egg whites
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1 1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (or, mix 1 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 tsp nutmeg, 1/2 tsp ginger and 1/4 tsp clove, and use 1 1/2 teaspoon of this mix)
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 eggs, separated into yolks and whites
1 can of prepared pumpkin (or, 16 oz of cooked pumpkin puree from scratch)
3/4 cups milk

Roll out pie crust into a 9-inch pie pan. Flute edges or decorate as desired. Bake for 10 minutes at 450°F, using pie weights in the crust if you want to ensure it won’t bubble.

While the crust bakes, cream together butter, brown sugar and pecans in a small bowl. When the crust comes out of the oven, remove pie weights if used and spread the pecan mixture evenly over the bottom of the crust. Return the crust with the pecan mixture to the oven for 5 minutes until the edges are golden brown. Remove from the oven and cool completely.

Place a double boiler on the stove. If you don’t have a double boiler, place a heat-safe bowl over a pot that has 1-2 inches of water in it, making sure the bowl is not touching the water below. In the bowl, combine sugar, gelatin, salt and spices.  Stir in beaten egg yolks, pumpkin and milk. Cook over hot water for 20 to 25 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and chill in the refrigerator until set, at least one hour.

In a separate bowl, beat cold egg whites until foamy, and then add 1/4 cup sugar very slowly until stiff peaks form.

Once the pumpkin has chilled, remove it from the fridge. Beat the cold pumpkin mixture until it is fluffy, then gently fold the egg white mixture into the pumpkin, just until evenly combined. Mound into the cooled pie crust and chill until ready to serve.

Serve with whipped cream (my favorite recipe is simply whipping cream, a touch of vanilla and a pinch of sugar- trust me, it’s all you need).

July and August in my childhood meant lots of raspberries. Produce in general, really: my grandparents planted each year a massive garden, and I strongly correlate the start of the school year with boxes of produce on the floor next to the fridge, pan fried okra at dinner almost daily, and raspberries.

Though I love most berries, the raspberry is by far my favorite. Sure, strawberries get a lot of credit as the first fruit of the spring, blueberries sustain me, strong and steady, through the heat of the summer, and blackberries dress up desserts with a splash of deep, fruity decadence. But raspberries, so fragile when picked ripe yet bursting with sweet and tart flavor, will never fade for me.

In Durham, raspberries don’t seem to be a popular cultivar. I’m not sure if it’s the climate or what, but I have only ever seen one, maybe two vendors at the farmers market here with these tiny red berries, and when they do it’s usually just a few pints at a time. So each week of the brief raspberry season in this city, I try to take full advantage. This week, I paired them up with a few luscious peaches for some hand pies!

And we can’t have hand pies without pie crust, of course. Until recently, I was very intimidated by pie crusts. But no more! With a recipe I originally adapted from Smitten Kitchen when taking my first stab at a full-blown pie, I now feel ready to take on any pie project that comes my way!

Before I learned to make this crust, I had almost convinced myself to get rid of these wide, low mixing bowls. Brad gave me a snazzy clear glass set for Christmas that doesn’t splatter and doubles easily as a set of serving bowls, and I was trying to think like an efficient non-hoarder.

But here’s the thing: pie crust NEEDS a wide, low mixing bowl. Trust me, I tried my first batch in the tall, skinny bowl, and it was way hard to cut the cold butter into the flour. Way hard. So these bowls can breathe a sigh of relief: no trip to the thrift store any time soon.

Once the dough is mixed, into the fridge it goes. For at least two hours. Don’t skimp on this. Just use it as an excuse to make yourself breakfast, and later, your pie filling. What starts as sticky, still somewhat disparate globs of butter and flour spends two hours in the fridges and emerges as a cohesive, easily rolled pie dough. So let it do its thing.

While it is, you can address those gorgeous fruits.

I was ready to abandon my hand pie project and just eat this as a simple fruit salad. This pie filling is as easy as it gets: raw peaches, raw raspberries, a bit of sugar and almond extract, and some instant tapioca to help the juices gel during baking. The peaches were perfect, and the raspberries were so ripe they nearly burst at the first touch of sugar.

We got pie dough! We got filling! Time to put ’em together in a bunch of tiny pies!

You can use any round cutting device that you want. I happen to have this handy little guy (the silver guy in the front) that cuts the original shape and later seals the pies with a handy built-in press. I’ve used it to make large raviolis, primarily, but it’s perfect for hand pies as well. But for once, the internet failed me: I could not find a link for one to share with you. Mostly because I can’t figure out what the hell to call it (biscuit sealer cutter wasn’t doing the trick). Points to anyone who can find this little treasure online!

A quick brush of egg wash to give us a nice golden crust, a sprinkle of sugar to make ’em purty, and about 30 minutes in the oven are the only steps left!

Some of your pies will leak. A little, or a lot. It’s okay! They’ll still taste awesome.

These little pies are a lovely way to show off some of the beautiful fruit that summer has to offer, and are delicious all on their own. They’d also be equally at  home snuggled underneath a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

But come to think of it, can you think of a pie that’s not?

Raspberry Peach Hand Pies

Makes 18-22 three-inch hand pies

1 batch pie dough
1 pint fresh raspberries
2 medium-sized yellow peaches, peeled and chopped
1/4 c sugar
1 tsp almond extract
1 1/2 T instant tapioca
1 egg yolk
1 T water
sanding sugar (for decoration)

Prepare the pie dough and allow to chill for two hours in the fridge wrapped in plastic wrap.

After the dough has chilled, preheat the oven to 375 °F. Place raspberries in a medium bowl and set aside. To easily peel the peaches, bring a small pot of water to a boil. Gently place the peaches in the boiling water for 30 seconds or so and then remove them with a slotted spoon. Place the peaches into a dish of cold water or run under cold water until the peaches are no longer warm. Halve the peaches to remove the pit, then slice into 1/2″ pieces and add to the bowl of raspberries. Add sugar, almond extract, and tapioca and mix well. The raspberries will begin to break down and release their juices almost immediately. Set the bowl aside.

Line two large cookie sheets with parchment paper. Dust a clean surface with flour and roll out one disc of your pie dough until it is about 1/8″ thick. Be generous with the flour to prevent the dough from sticking to the counter. Using a large biscuit cutter or other circular cutter about 3″ in diameter, cut out an even number of circles, using as much of the dough as possible. Remove scraps from around circles and press them back together in a ball and return it to the fridge.

For half of the circles, carefully spoon about 2 tablespoons of filling onto the center of each circle. Take the remaining circles and stretch them out slightly so they will completely cover the circles with the filling. Drape this stretched circle over the filling and press the edges down all the way around the circle. If your cutter has a sealing edge, press down firmly to ensure a seal is made. If not, press the tines of a fork around the edge of the circle to ensure the dough seals shut. Repeat until all pies have been sealed and place pies on the cookie sheet about 1/2″ apart. Use the tip of a knife to make a small slit in the top of each pie to allow for venting. Place the cookie sheet in the fridge while you build the rest of the pies.

Roll out the second disc of dough and repeat the pie-building process. Continue to recombine your scraps and re-roll them to maximize the number of pies you can complete.

Once all pies are ready and on the cookie sheets, combine the egg yolk and water in a small bowl and beat until mixture is slightly foamy. Brush over the top of each pie. Finally, sprinkle sanding sugar over all of the pies. The sugar won’t melt during baking, so use as much or as little as you like.

Bake pies at 375 °F for 25-35 minutes or until crusts are golden brown. Pies without a strong seal may leak slightly. Remove pies to a cooling rack and allow to cool for at least 20 minutes before serving.

Pies can be served warm or cool. Serve them by themselves, with vanilla ice cream, vanilla pudding, whipped cream, or whatever makes you happiest. Pies can be stored at room temperature for 3-4 days in an airtight container.

Before I say anything else: Happy Mother’s Day!

Since moving away for college eight years ago (eek), I haven’t been able to spend Mother’s Day with my mom. I think I’ve lucked out for Father’s Day a couple of times as June was more conducive to cross-country travel, but Mom has had to settle for phone calls and packages.

This is a special Mother’s Day, too. My mom is retiring this year after decades of work in elementary libraries and classrooms, teaching young Coloradoans (myself included) to read, to write, and to appreciate books. I have many fond memories over the years of going to the library with my mom for work and for fun, of stapling long strips of playful bulletin board borders to the edges of her displays, of ogling over the annual book fair catalogs and knowing that if there was one place she would buy us anything we asked for, it was books. Her fervor for the written word has, no doubt, cultivated my own passion for books and penchant for writing. She’s the #1 fan of this little food blog and tenders her support through comments, encouragement, and little e-mails alerting me to typos (which, by the way, I welcome from ANYONE who spots one – I want to squash typos out like bugs). So thanks Mom! For everything. I wish I could spend today with you!

But since I can’t, how about blog-worthy pie?

This pie has a little backstory. Until this spring, I’d never made a pie crust from scratch, and I’d never made a fruit pie at all. But there is something about pie. Some old-school, down-home, re-assuring something that I couldn’t resist any longer. Ironically, my mom was never really a baker of pies (she tended toward cakes and cookies for her desserts), so I’ve always been somewhat intimidated by pie. Which sounds ridiculous, really.

Anyway, once strawberries started to make their grand entrance this spring, I decided I wanted to tackle this culinary mountain so that I could no longer awkwardly change the subject when someone asked about my favorite pie to bake. It seemed an obvious choice to start with a true classic: strawberry rhubarb pie.

Strawberries, I’ve worked with before in a variety of contexts. But rhubarb was a new ingredient for me. It hardly looks like a fruit at all. Long, green, stiff stalks that look more like celery or a sturdy cousin of Swiss chard, it hardly looks like something I’d want to bake into a dessert. It’s tangy and extremely tart on its own, and apparently, the leaves are somewhat toxic to humans. The more you know.

But strawberries and rhubarb have been historically coupled together: the overly sweet strawberry plays nicely with the tart rhubarb, and where strawberries are soft, rhubarb retains a firmer texture despite a long stay in the oven.

But the filling wasn’t my true concern. I was actually more nervous about tackling homemade pie dough. So many recipes to choose from! So many “miracle” tricks! They couldn’t all be the answer, could they Empowered by my recent success with a lovely quiche crust, I decided to try an all-butter crust.

(For added Mother’s-Day coolness, that is my grandmother’s pastry cutter. It has literally been used to make pie doughs for DECADES. Best to stick with what works, right?)

I followed an excellent tutorial with tips about making and rolling pie crust (from the lovely Deb at Smitten Kitchen – who else?), and find that pie dough was not nearly as intimidating as I was building it up to be. Keeping the butter COLD was key, and making sure the dough chilled for a couple of hours turned these frighteningly sticky patties of dough into perfect pie crusts a couple hours later.

With my bottom crust in place it was time for the filling.

You might be wondering why my ruby red strawberries and fresh sliced rhubarb are marred by unappealing little bits of white stuff. I take this opportunity to showcase the not-so-photogenic secret to making this pie miraculous: instant tapioca

A cautionary tale… you see, this is not the first strawberry rhubarb pie I have made this season. In fact, I made one just two weeks earlier than this batch of photos, but the result was far from perfect. In a brazen show of culinary naivety, I decided that I need not heed the warnings that this filling would be a soupy mess if I used cornstarch alone to try to thicken the juicy fruit. I didn’t have any tapioca on hand didn’t feel like running to the store, and used the cornstarch anyway.  I pulled from the oven what appeared to be the perfect pie.

Right?? Perfectly golden crust, no juicy explosions, bright red fruit peeking through the lattices. But then I sliced into it…

Like water through a broken damn, the juice and fruit that made up my pie filling flowed out of the crust as soon as a slice was sloppily removed from the pie plate. To make matters worse, the bottom crust hadn’t cooked all the way, so instead of matching the golden crispy crust on top, it was a stretchy mass of gummy flour and butter. I was heartbroken! How could I have gone so wrong?

Two things: one, I discovered that in fact, my oven cooks about 10 degrees shy of what it says on the meter. Important. No wonder everything I’ve cooked since the new oven got installed has taken longer than expected. Two, use the tapioca. I’ve since learned that instant tapioca seems to be a rather commonly-used ingredient for fruit pies. And for damn good reason.

Back to the second pie:

Even after my disastrous first pie, I was still, still, nervous about these little white bits. What if they didn’t go away Would my filling be gritty But it was too late to go back at this point, and I was determined to see if the tapioca was all it was cracked up to be. I topped off the pie with some latticed pie dough (shockingly easy, I’ll show you how in the recipe below), plopped it in the oven, and hoped for the best.

Out it came! The top wasn’t quite as perfect-looking as the previous pie due to some small juice explosions, but this was probably due to the fact that my oven was actually at the proper temperature this time. The bottom crust looked like was the right color to be done (I checked this time). I waited a few hours to let the pie cool, and then I nervously made a slice to see if the consistency of the filling had improved.

Look at that! It was completely different! The gritty white particles had disappeared and created a perfectly gelled filling. I was floored. I’ll never doubt tapioca again.

So hooray! Following a dismal failure in the kitchen, I redeemed myself with a pie that was not only pretty to look at, but was also really good to eat. Maybe, one of these years, I can make one at Mother’s Day and share more than a picture of it with my mom. And maybe you can too!

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Adapted slightly from Smitten Kitchen

For the Crust
2 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1 T sugar
1 tsp salt
2 sticks (or 1 cup) unsalted butter, COLD and cut into 1/2″ cubes
1/2 c + 1 T very cold water

In a wide bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, and salt. Add cubes of butter and combine with flour mixture using a pastry cutter or a fork. Be sure to incorporate all of the flour and work the mixture until it has the appearance of a very coarse meal. It’s okay if some butter pieces are still larger, about the size of a pea… it’s important to not work it too much.

Add 1/2 of the water and glue the mixture together using a rubber spatula. Once the mixture is mostly combined, work it into a single clump using your hands. You may need to add a bit more water – be careful not to add too much or the dough will be too moist. Dough will be slightly sticky, and will appear to be too sticky to roll out. Divide the dough into two equal clumps and place each clump on a piece of plastic wrap. Fold the plastic wrap over on top of each clump and press into a round disc, about an inch thick. Then, wrap the plastic wrap around each disc.

Chill dough discs in the refrigerator for at least two hours.

For the Filling
3 1/2 c rhubarb, chopped into pieces about 1/2″ thick
3 1/2 c strawberries, sliced into large pieces or halved
1/2 c white sugar
1/4 c dark brown sugar
1 T lemon juice
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 c instant tapioca (I found Minute brand in the baking aisle)

While your dough chills, prepare your fruits. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and stir gently to avoid crushing the strawberries too much. Set aside.

For the Assembly
1 large egg yolk, lightly beaten, and mixed with 1 tsp water

Once your dough has chilled for at least two hours and your filling ingredients have been combined, preheat oven to 400 °F. Get out your pie plate and set it near the area where you will be rolling out your dough. Generously flour a clean surface and a rolling pin. Remove one disc of dough from the refrigerator and remove the plastic wrap, then place it on the floured surface, sprinkling more flour on top of the dough. Roll out the dough, flipping every couple of rolls and re-flouring under the dough, until you have a circle about 14″ in diameter, or, enough to line the bottom of the pie plate with at least an inch of dough hanging over the sides. Carefully slide the dough into the pie plate. If you like, you can gently fold the dough into quarters to transfer it to the plate and then unfold it. Press the dough into the plate so that it is flush with the entirety of the inside of the plate.

Add the filling to the bottom crust and spread out evenly.

Repeat the rolling process with the second dough disc. If you’re planning to put a full lid on your pie, make several slices in the center of the rolled out circle to ensure ventilation and place the crust over the pie. If you are using lattices, slice the dough into strips about an inch wide. Lay the strips across the pie in one direction,  leaving about 1/2″ between the strips. When you have applied enough strips in one direction, lift every other strip and fold it back over itself at the center of the pie. Place a strip going the opposite direction at that line, then fold the strips you lifted back down across the pie. Now, lift the opposite set of strips and fold them back over themselves, adding another strip next to the first and continuing to leave a 1/2″ gap. Continue until half of the top is complete, then repeat the process on the other half.

Trim all dough, both from the bottom crusts and the lattices on the top, until about 3/4″ remains as an overhang. Then, tuck all overhang under the bottom crust so that nothing overhangs. You now should have a thick rim of dough around the top of your pie plate. To crimp the edges, hold your thumb and index finger about 1/2″ apart on the outside of the rim and press your opposite index finger into the gap between them on the inside of the rim. Repeat by moving your fingers so your thumb is now in the recess where the index finger of the same hand just was until you have crimped the entire rim.

Using a pastry brush, gently brush the egg yolk & water mixture over the entire top crusts. Place pie in the oven on a center rack and bake at 400 °F for 20 minutes. Then, reduce heat to 350 °F and bake for an additional 30-35 minutes. Pie is done when top AND bottom crusts are golden brown (this is where a glass pie plate comes in especially handy) and filling is bubbling.

Remove pie to a cooling rack and allow to cool for several hours, or even overnight.

Pie can be served warm or cool and should keep on the counter for 3-4 days.