I was going to write about all the pre-Thanksgiving cleaning and cooking (so that I don’t have to cook as much Thursday, and so that the place is presentable for guests). But while working in the kitchen my mind wandered and I had another topic to address.
Thanksgiving dinner means pie … or pies, plural. Just pumpkin and a dense, no-top-crust apple this year. I am not one to use premade crusts, and I am not one to screw up crusts. For being able to make a perfect pie crust from scratch every time I have a former math professor to thank.
I. Background
My sophomore year of college I took a non-credit pie and bread baking “course” with a half-dozen other math nerds once a week at this professor’s house. He and his partner had this wonderfually laid out ranch-style abode at the feet of the San Bernardino Mountains and the kitchen, while not ‘open’ in the style of so many 90s-and-later kitchens, was still rather spacious with a good amount of counter space. He would demonstrate; we would mimic. He provided recipes; we would mix, knead, turn out, and bake.
Somewhere I still have that stack of recipes, photocopied and often-used. I’ve lost it but hope to find it again someday. What I miss is the whole-wheat bread (with a mixture of honey and molasses) that he taught us to make, and there are a number of great pie recipes buried in the stack, but what I can do from memory is his pie crust.
II. The Crust
It’s just a standard, direct, plain pie crust, but sometimes the classics are best. My mother was a great cook, but pie crusts always defeated her; simple is not always easy. And easy is sometimes still a matter of practice. This makes two crusts (e.g. a top and a bottom):
- 2 cups flour
- 1 tsp. salt
- 2/3 cup shortening, divided
- 6-7 Tbsp. ice water
Stir or sift together the flour and salt. Add in half the shortening and cut it together with [a] a pastry cutter, [b] fork, or [c] a couple butter knives until the clumps are pea-size. Then add the remainder of the shortening and cut it together until it is the texture of cornmeal.
I always use a fork.
One tablespoon at a time add the ice water and incorporate it before adding the next. If you’re in a particularly dry environment, you may need 7 Tbsp, but 6 should be enough. Once the dough holds together (but is not damp/wet) you are done. Form it into a ball, cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let it chill in the refrigerator at least 15 minutes.
I’ve been known to use it right away, but warm dough is harder to work with. The key above is to use ice water, not just cold tap water.
Now divide the dough in half and roll out with a rolling pin. I often roll the dough out between two pieces of wax paper, or at least with the dough on a floured surface and with one sheet of wax paper over it, which makes the process easier.
You can do what you want from here … two bottom crusts, a top and a bottom, blind bake it for custard and pudding pies, cleverly and skillfully trim it, and so on.
Sometimes I make a buttery pate brisee instead, frequently for quiche, but I always come back to this one when I need a quick and easy pie crust.
III. The Tradition
Ms. S.’s family, like so many others, goes around the table on Thanksgiving mentioning what they’re thankful for. The obvious answer for me is: Ms. S. We have our health, our cats, but especially each other.
But that’s for tomorrow, the third Thursday of November.
Tonight I’m thankful for Prof. M., who taught me how to bake.
