My mom taught me how to make pie crust, and I always understood that it was hard and that it turns out a little different each time, so that part of eating pie is the crust post mortem. Tender or tough? Flaky or leaden? And what about the flavor? Butter probably gives the best flavor, but I've never made a butter crust that wasn't like very tasty cardboard. Lard is best for flavor and texture, but there's something unappealing about all those strange ingredients--deodorizers and stabilizers and preservatives. Shouldn't the only ingredient be: pig fat? When my mom first learned to make pie, her mom called in a neighbor who was known to make good crusts. And my grandma Maxine was and is a great cook. It's just that crust prowess is rare, and so my mom was apprenticed.
My mom taught me the classic one cup shortening, three cups flour, one teaspoon salt, one cup ice water, though you know you won't use the whole cup of water. She taught me to use a pastry blender, but I've long since abandoned that. It takes too long, and quickness and lightness are everything when it comes to pie. I use my fingers. The purpose of the pastry cutter is to keep the fat cold while you cut it into the flour to make those fatty-flour granules that end up puffing into a thousand pockets of light flaky deliciousness. It turns out I can do that better with my fingers.
I developed my finger technique at the dude ranch where I worked as an assistant cook after college. There was no time for a pastry cutter there. I would make seven or eight pies before breakfast. And make breakfast. It was cold at night, even in the summer, and the water came out of the tap icy cold. I would wash my hands and then hold them under the cold running water as long as I could stand it, then dry my hands really well and use my freezing fingers to cut the fat into the flour, quick, quick and careless. It's caring too much that usually ruins a batch of pie crust. It makes you try too hard, and before you know it you've overworked the dough.
Cold and quick. That is pie crust. I remember an article in The New Yorker from many years ago about driving around America eating pie, and the author included a recipe for pie crust that included oil and boiling water. It was disturbing. I don't remember who wrote it, but it wasn't Calvin Trillin. That lovely man would never perpetuate such crude misinformation. And where was their fact checking department? This is not a subject on which reasonable minds can differ. Whatever that woman was making, it wasn't pie. Maybe it was wallpaper paste. My faith in the printed word was shaken.
Pretty pie crusts are usually shitty pie crusts. That's because to make dough that doesn't tear and crimps neatly at the edges, you have to overwork it and use too much water. I like an ugly patched together crust that tastes as it should. I've decided to give up crimping altogether and make what I think is called a fladen--a sort of rustic partly folded over itself crust, usually with apple filling or something else sufficiently solid. And I'm going to find good lard--honest perishable pig fat.
I just googled "lard connection Sacramento" and came up with nothing except a strong impression that I'm not the only one on a lard quest. And I learned on Wikipedia that the best fat is from around the kidneys. Goodie.
(Next day) There are subjects on which I cannot be educated. I simply can't believe anything bad about butter, no matter how much evidence to the contrary I create. I made a pumpkin pie with real pumpkin (as in not canned, though there's nothing wrong with canned) and a butter crust. And it was a failure. That means it was delicious by any reasonable standard--but not what I had in mind. The crust was flaky and crisp, and the flavor was wonderful. But it was tough. Enzo and Teresa don't understand this. They don't speak pie.
Why don't I just make tri-tip or brownies or something else that's impossible to make badly? Because pie is better. And where would be the drama? I can buy a brownie at Starbucks that's probably better than anything I could make. And what's the point of making homemade cookies when Oreos exist? But pie is indispensable, and the only good pies I remember eating were baked by my mom or myself. Sorry, world, we happen to rule.
The good news is that we went to the Farmer's Market this morning, and I asked the guy at the pork stand if he sells leaf lard. He said no, but he'd be happy to give me some. Just call the week before, and he'll make some for me. Hurrah! I am connected.
I'm going to include a recipe for Shaker Lemon Pie because because it's so strange and so good. To make this pie you need either a Meyer lemon tree or a connection. I have both, but since I'm the only woman in California who can't bring a lemon to harvest, I rely on my connection--a neighbor lady with a harvest from one tree that fills grocery bags.
2 large lemons with thin rinds (Jeanne note: it takes about 6 Meyer lemons-they don’t come in ‘large’ The pie should not have heaped filling. The flavor is too intense if overfilled.)
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
Slice lemons paper thin, rind and all; flick away any seeds. Combine the lemon slices with the sugar and mix well. Let stand 2 –12 hours, blending occasionally. This is rather pretty stuff when the sun shines on it. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Beat the eggs and add the lemon mixture. Turn into a 9” pie shell, arranging the slices evenly. Cover with a top crust and crimp along the edges. Cut several slits near the center. Bake at 450F for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375F and bake for about 20 minutes (Jeanne note: maybe longer) or until a knife inserted near the edge comes out clean. Cool before serving.
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My own fact checking department (My Mother) has informed me that The New Yorker article I was remembering was The Great American Pie Expedition by Sue Hubbell, New Yorker, March 27, 1989. This was also the source of the Shaker Lemon Pie recipe. A useful reminder that the sublime and the horrible are often found together.
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