End-times pie

For the moment of this slice of pie,
we are happier than a bird with
a french fry.

Yesterday by the grace of God I made a peach-blueberry pie.  I have had this pie in mind for about a year.  Last year I had purchased canned peaches for such an endeavor but it never happened. Partly because I doubted that a pie made from canned peaches would match the platonic peach pie.

On Friday the Common Household Husband (CHH) and I made a trip in town to Penzey’s Spices, a place I had longed to go to.  I was delighted to replace some spices that had been bought about 10 years ago, just about when the current toddler-tyrant thought of riding the escalator to bring us all down with him.  Penzey’s is a good place to shop in defiance of that descent.  

Penzey’s reminded us that the CHH can’t smell much of anything these days.  He comprehends the stink of approaching fascism, but couldn’t register the heady aroma of garam masala, reminiscent of my Dad’s own delectable garam masala.  I bought a large jar of Penzey’s cinnamon, with current and future pies in mind.  The pie of the realm of God, if you will - already and not yet.

On Saturday I bought 12 not-quite-local peaches at the local farm up north. 

The peaches were from Chambersburg, PA, a spot dear to my heart because

my mother went to college there AND they produce marvelous peaches there.  

In one’s life one can hope to experience at least one delicious peach.  This year may be a calamity, but the peaches are marvelous this summer as we rage against the regime.  Some solace along the way.  On Sunday and Monday I had fresh peaches at breakfast and lunch.

On Tuesday the afternoon stretched before me.  All the ingredients were at hand.  The peaches were ripe.  I set to work.  Just as I finished making the bottom crust, with flour all over the floor,  the CHH arrived home unexpectedly early.  We both jumped with surprise.  Wisely, he beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen.

I defied the directions for this pie.  The recipe assumes there is peach juice, from canned peaches, and said juice is to be cooked on the stove with corn starch and cinnamon.  Nope, not happening.  Lattice crust?  Pfft!  No. I proceeded boldly with a spirit of non-cooperation, something that is required of me far more these days than I had imagined would be.

I asked the family if they thought the filling would fit in the pie pan.  Responses:  Older Daughter: “100%.  Anything extra will disappear.”  CHH:  100%.  The family are good estimators.  It fit just fine, but it was VERY soupy.  A bit did spill over during cooking but most of it was retained inside the pie.  Just as our Pennsylvania judges should be retained when we vote in November.

The juices are very near the top of the crust.
Think of the juices as PA judges.  We want
to retain them in the courts so that we can
continue to have the rule of law,
reproductive rights, fair elections, and
to avoid chaos.

Reader, the pie is fitting for our times.  It doesn’t look perfect, but provides a moment

to glory in the taste.  Things may feel like the end-times are coming, but for a few

minutes let’s forget the troubles of now and sit at the table with pie and steaming-hot tea. 

Stop by for a piece.  I predict it won’t be here for long.

Let us not die in bitterness of soul, never having tasted of good. (Job 21:25, in a chapter

bemoaning that the wicked go unpunished.)  Yes, the wicked go unpunished, but we

can rejoice that we have each other, that the earth continues to turn, and that there’s

a damn good peach crop this year.

The aftermath.
We ask the question: who will clean up this mess we are in?

​​Peach pie

(for peach-blueberry pie, add 1 cup blueberries, and perhaps subtract 1 cup peaches.)

 

Ingredients

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

4 to 7 cups sliced peeled peaches

Pastry for double-crust pie (9 inches)

3 tablespoons cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (or leave this out and put in ½ tsp cinnamon)

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon butter

 

 

Directions

In a large bowl, combine sugars; add peaches and toss gently. Cover and let

stand for 1 hour (or for as long as it takes you to make the pie crust

and roll out the bottom crust). (In my opinion for a 9 inch pie you

need way more than 4 cups of peaches.)

Line a 9-in. pie plate or cast iron skillet with bottom pastry; trim even

with edge. Set aside.   

Drain peaches, reserving juice.

 

In a small saucepan, combine the cornstarch, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt;

gradually stir in reserved juice. Bring to a boil; cook and stir until

thickened, about 2 minutes (OR LESS). Remove from the heat;

stir in lemon juice and butter. Gently fold in peaches. Pour into crust.

 

Roll out remaining pastry; make a lattice crust.  (OR use cookie

cutter to cut out shapes and place on top of pie, leaving spaces,

just like a lattice crust would have some spaces.)

 

Trim, seal and flute edges. Cover edges loosely with foil.

Bake at 400° until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly,

50-60 minutes. Remove foil. Cool on a wire rack. If desired,

serve with vanilla ice cream.

Please note: Blogger was behaving horribly for this post. It took me nearly as long to post it as it did to make the pie.  Maybe it's time to look elsewhere for simple blogging software.

What We Will Eat During The Anarchy

Back in May, we were a household of three.  We engaged in quite a bit of cooking from scratch, making sure to use all of our groceries.  No wasting food! was my motto.  That motto has since been slightly relaxed, but it was in full force in May.

One day our Younger Daughter volunteered to make dinner.  I instructed her to make zucchini pie, because we had fresh zucchinis and a spare pie crust that needed to be used up.  And I told her that we had to have the leftover roasted butternut squash and sweet peppers. 

After YD put the zucchini pie in the oven to cook, she exclaimed, “This dinner is full of food I don’t like!”  

Me: We’ll be having that sweet potato bread that I made.  And there is cheese in the zucchini pie.

YD:  The bread is the only part of this meal that I like.

Me: But you can learn to love zucchini.  It’s part of adulting.

YD:  NO, IT’S NOT!

I believe she found the zucchini pie was not too awful.  Good thing, because No Wasting Food!

* * * * * * * *

Sometimes adulting takes other forms during a pandemic.

Me, reviewing recipes: Oh, look!  Cranberry and Rosemary Sangria!  We could use some of that right now.

YD: Would you like me to set up a distillery in the back?

* * * * * * * *

I have yet to tell you about our family’s Pandemic Dessert Baking Series.  That will have to wait for another time.   The Dessert Series has ended because Younger Daughter moved out.   But our series led us to discuss desserts many times in the past few months.  Here are the Common Household Husband’s deep thoughts about blueberry pie.

Husband:  Let me tell you my issues with blueberry pie.   One: usually the person preparing it doesn’t take the time to take off the little stems.  Two: Then, you don’t know if they are using those tiny blueberries or normal ones.  So blueberry pie is very hit-or-miss.

A pre-pandemic set of blueberry pies, using normal blueberries.

* * * * * * * *

A few nights ago, I was reading the news.  It was completely depressing. And that was before the UFTOO-POTUS* allowed his pusillanimous convicted guilty crony The Penguin to escape justice.  In this country, laws are for the little people to follow.

Me: America is not going to make it.  It’s going to be anarchy.

Common Household Husband: But that can’t last long.

Me: You're right. Some power will take over.  Probably private militias.

Husband:  If the French take over that wouldn't be too bad.   We could have baguettes, and French pastries .  Wine would be easy to get.  Especially those pastries with the chocolate inside.  Very excellent.  But if the British take over, it would be bangers and mash, kippers and herring.  Breakfast would be excellent, but dinner might not be as good.   And tea all the time.  Lots of tea.

Me: That wouldn’t be so bad.

*Unfit For The Office Of President Of The United States

 

Tea Time, as depicted on a quilt.
Maybe anarchy could be like this!

* * * * * * * *

In the past few months, our use of paper towels has diminished, but lately we had been running low and found them difficult to find.  Toilet paper, on the other hand, has returned to the grocery stores, although in limited amounts.

Today I went down to the basement to check on the laundry.  My husband was there, already folding the clean laundry. 

Husband: I got you a present. 

Me:  !

Husband:  It’s there in those grocery bags.

Me, looking in one of the bags:  Toilet paper!   And paper towels!!!! Thank you so much!

Husband:  Actually, the present is in the other bag.

Me:  Skinny Pop Popcorn!  Yay!  Oooh - it's kettlecorn flavor!

 * * * * * * * *

As The Anarchy approaches, we must learn to appreciate the simple things.

Baking, Listening, Digging, Talking, Painting, Standing

While I am not experiencing a lot of despair due to personal reasons, I’m in quite a bit of despair about the world, the country, the state.   In the next post, I’ll give details about that, but first I wanted to try to stay positive, and remind myself of the ways that I have been keeping total despair at bay.

  1.  Bake a pie. 

I made this pie partly because I knew my son would be coming home at some point, and he likes pie.  But I also made it because making pie is therapeutic. 

I took this...

And made this.

I did not have shortening in the house, so I had to use butter for the crust.  I know it is possible to make a great crust using butter, but it is not in my skill set.  So the crust was not optimal.  I will have to bake another pie soon.

Blueberry pie filling looks kind of wicked when
 it is raw.  And then you bake the hell right
out of it.  So it's great for fending off
the feeling that the world is going to hell
in a handbasket.

Rolling out the crust, I thought, this looks like Australia.  But it turns out it looks more like the Big Island of Hawaii, the one where the goddess Pele is exploding with rage at the current state of the world. 

As I rolled this crust out, I thought it looked
 rather like Australia.  But I was wrong.

 2.  Go to a concert.

We had the great fortune to receive the gift of tickets to this concert.  I never in my life thought I would have the chance to hear Yo-yo Ma in person.  It was a wonderful concert.  Yo-yo Ma is the sort of person who exudes hope. 

3.  Dig in the dirt

I was not optimistic at all that I would find time to plant the six flowers I bought at the farmer’s market.  But digging in the dirt, working alongside Younger Daughter, was balm for the soul.  We planted snapdragons and these yellow flowers that I don’t know the name of.

4.  Talk to a friend

I was so agitated on Thursday that I completely neglected an appointment to meet a friend.  I was so looking forward to this!  But I was consumed with anger, shame, and dismay at my country.  I am grateful that my friend was forgiving. We had a good chat on the phone.  She kindly suggested that I spend some time looking for the helpers.  They are everywhere, and you can see them if only you look.

5.   Make protest signs

In the past few weeks, I’ve painted a lot of protest signs.     

I bought more blue paint.  Also added an "e" before taking this
sign to the protest.

 6.  Protest

I know I don't have to stand out on the street, but that is indeed one option.  It's one I like to do in solidarity with others.

Shadows of protesters outside our
Congressman's office.  

Patriotic Pie

Raw pie.  It seemed like a good decorating idea at the time.

The last time the blog had a pie was over a year ago.  It’s time to correct that.

I got apples to make a pie last week, but it didn’t happen.  Then on Thursday my son called with the happy news that he would be coming to visit for the weekend.  I girded my loins and got started on making that pie. 

Just before I put it in the oven, I had the brilliant idea to sprinkle red, white, and blue sugar on top of it.  And then, THEN I decided that it was a Miss American Pie, and that therefore I should write “Bye Bye” on it in candy letters.  Clearly, to make the candy letters stick, some egg white wash, applied sparingly, was necessary.

I never would win any prizes for pie decoration, but this one might win a prize for being the ugliest pie. The white sugar was not proper decorating sugar, so it never showed up on the finished pie.  Son said the blue sugar was green (and it is, where it was swamped with egg white).  The red color managed to bleed into any place where there was egg white.  And the candy letters burned.

Oh, my.  Ugly pie.

It looks rather bruised and damaged, but it is still as American as apple pie.  It will be gone by tomorrow.