It’s not about what I know, it’s about what I don’t know.
When we started this blog, my wife sat down and wrote out a
schedule of pies to make. I brainstormed
52 topics, she typed them up and fit them into a calendar that would make sense
from a seasonal standpoint. That way, I wasn't making Strawberry Pie in December and Apple Pie in June. And this week’s topic was Chocolate Pecan
Pie.
It starts with a completely pre-baked crust. I wanted to try out a new crust, so I made it
up, carefully followed the finicky directions about temperature and cooling the
ingredients and letting the crust rest. I rolled it out, fit it into the pie pan, docked the crust, let it cool
more in the fridge, and put it into a hot oven to bake. Then I sat down to write a blog post about
how much stuff I knew about pie crust. It was going to be great.
After ten minutes, I looked in the oven to find
disaster. Despite the docking, the crust
had inflated in the middle and slipped down the sides of the pan. This wouldn't do, this wouldn't do at
all. I tried to poke holes in the middle
and maybe stretch it back, but I've been down this road before and knew that it
was over before I started.
It’s not about what I know, it’s about what I don’t know.
When I started reading food blogs, I was often just blown
away by the knowledge that people brought to food. They wrote well, made interesting food, took
amazing pictures.
I hesitated to write about food because I’m not an
expert. And I don’t write very
well. My mind tends to wander, and my
writing wanders right along with it. If
I had to write anything longer than a catchy Facebook post, I really struggled.
But I want to bake pie better than I can right now. I want to know how to pair crusts with
fillings to elevate the final product. I
want to know how to produce a crust that is crispy when I want it and tender
when that’s the goal. I want to be able
to make those gorgeous little leaves that decorate fall pies. The list of what I don’t know about pie is
far longer than the list of what I do know.
I want to learn how to alter baking times to make tartelette work. I know there will be different
baking times for custard tarts than for fruit tarts, but what will that
difference be?
I want to explore historical pies. There’s a recipe that sticks in my craw, a
shaker lemon pie, that I've always wanted to try. Not because it sounds so great, but because
it sounds so different than anything else I've baked. There are pies that put dried fruits to use,
from a time when refrigeration wasn't even possible, that I want to bake. I’m not convinced they’re all great food, but
they’re interesting to me because of what they say about how food used to be
used.
I want to bake a berry pie that will make my wife
swoon. That’s right, full-blown
Victorian swooning.
I used to think that crumb crusts were simple. After I made a few failed graham cracker
crusts, I've discovered they’re not. I
want a crust that works, every time. I
want to know how my homemade graham crackers differ (in a crust) from the store
bought. I want to find more flavors that
work in crumb crusts.
I want to learn how to make a lattice crust. Weird, right? You would think I would figure that out before starting a blog about
pies.
I want to find the recipe for the most amazing lemon pie I've ever tasted.
I want to figure out which pie pan to use, for which crust,
in which situation. I want to experiment
with pyrex and with metal. I want to find
a way to make pie in flimsy aluminum pie pans, so I can leave the pan.
I would like to make every pie crust recipe in
existence. I want to know what’s so
great about that Cook’s Illustrated recipe that all their devotees rave about. There are so many variations on pie crust, I
could write a blog just about pie crust, using different flours, different
crackers and cookies, different fats and dairy products. But really, would you read a blog about pie
crusts?
It’s not about what I know, it’s about what I want to know.
This pecan pie is rich, rich, rich. I made it for Thanksgiving a couple of years
ago. The chocolate actually cuts the
sweetness of the pie. It’s also really,
really good.
Chocolate Pecan Pie
1 unbaked pie crust
Filling
½ stick
butter
2 oz.
unsweetened chocolate (I used Scharffen Berger)
¾ C. packed
dark brown sugar
¾ C. dark
corn syrup
1 tsp
vanilla extract
3 large eggs
1 ¾ C. Pecan
halves
Roll out the pie crust and fit it into a pie pan. Make the edges look nice. Seriously, presentation matters, and nothing
screams “Store bought pie crust” like those perfectly machined into place
decorations. You know, the little
zig-zags. We’re not trying to emulate
that.
Pre-heat your oven to 425.
Put a piece of foil over the entire pie crust, then fill the
cavity with uncooked beans, rice, or pie weights if that is how you roll. Cook in the oven for ten minutes. The crust should be set, but not cooked
through.
Carefully remove the foil and
the beans, rice, or pie weights. Put the
crust back in the oven and cook for another 10-12 minutes, until fully
cooked. Remove and allow to cool.
Turn your oven down to 350.
In a small saucepan over low heat, melt together the butter
and the chocolate. Set aside to cool a
little.
Chop one cup of the pecans.
Stir together the brown sugar, corn syrup, vanilla, and
eggs. Stir in the chocolate/butter
mixture. Stir all the pecans into the
rest of the filling.
Pour the filling into the baked pie crust. Cover the exposed crust with strips of foil
or with one of those crust shields. If
you don’t have one, don’t worry about it, just use the foil. But put one on your wish list.
Bake 45 minutes, until the edges are set, but the center is
still a little wobbly. Remove from the
oven and cool completely.
I'll be sending you a lemon pie recipe that every year Thanksgiving makes my jaw drop at how much I love it. It's dead easy, and that makes me love it all the more.
ReplyDeleteLoving your blog and your passion for finding knowledge holes and filling them.