7/24/11

BOM's Away Monday




This week, I've spent my time working on my "Dave's Not Here" quilt. However, I did get a pretty good start on my UFO Challenge stitchery:



I'm about one-third of the way there.  Here's a close-up of what I have finished so far:



I'm happy to be ahead of schedule on this one because it doesn't have to be finished until September. 


Macro Monday


Taken at a road side rest near Mt. Shasta.  For more Macro Monday go to Lisa's Chaos.


Lattice Top Cherry Pie Tutorial




If you're like me and you're pie crust phobic, you're not alone.  Russ Parsons, in his food science book, How to Read a French Fry 



aptly pointed out that
 "it is precisely because we make pie crusts so rarely that they have the power to inspire dread disproportionate to their actual difficulty.  A pie crust ain't nothin' but flour, fat and water, right?  That, of course, is disingenuous.  It is because the ingredients are so basic that pie crusts are so difficult.  They are almost totally dependent on technique, and technique is not something that you can pick up on a quick trip to the grocery store.  The only way to learn how to make a good pie crust is to make enough bad ones that you finally acquire both an understanding and a feel for how a good one is made."
I've made plenty of bad ones myself.  In fact, I doubt any of my pie crusts have been truly good ones.  But this is what I've learned in that process:  pie crust is very forgiving.  Because it's made up mostly of fat, any errors you make kind of melt away in the baking process.  I'm going to show you what I mean because I'm about to walk you through my latest crust-making adventure, and I'll show you how imperfect my crust is.  When I'm finished, I think you'll see that all of my imperfection doesn't matter in the least because my crust, like my cutting mat, is self-healing.  So here goes:

I'm using the recipe from my favorite baking cookbook, Baking Illustrated, by Cook's Illustrated.



For a lattice-top pie crust, you'll need 3 cups (15 oz.) of unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for liberally dusting your work surface.  I like to weigh my dry ingredients because, where flour is concerned, you can get different amounts depending on how you measure it out.


To that you'll want to add 1 teaspoon of salt and 2 tablespoons of sugar. 

Now for the fat:  you'll need 7 tablespoons of shortening and 10 tablespoons of butter.  I've taken to making my pie crusts in my food processor.  I could never get it right with one of those pastry cutters.


Just pulse it about ten, one-second pulses until the pieces of fat are about the size of peas.  Then, depending on how warm and dry the weather, you'll want to add between 8-10 tablespoons of ice water and pulse again until your dough comes together so that it clumps when you squeeze it in the palm of your hand . . . kind of like play dough.

Now you're ready to form your dough into disks.  I have a solid-surface counter top, and so I roll it out there, but I can highly recommend the Roul-Pat baking mat if you have a tile or other porous surface.



The most important thing I've learned about making piecrust is to use plenty of flour on your hands, on your rolling pin, on your rolling surface and on the dough itself.  Better to use too much flour than to have the dough stick to anything and everything it comes into contact with.  In fact, I've been known to dump several pounds of flour into my bathtub and roll around in it before trying this.  Not really.  It only looks like I have.

So for this lattice top piecrust, you'll want to pat the crust out into two pieces:  one will be about a four-inch disk, the other about a five-inch square.  You'll use the square for the lattice top in a little while.


Once you have it formed into these two pieces, wrap it in plastic and refrigerate it for at least one hour . . . longer if it needs it.  You want it to be firm before you try rolling it out.


While you're waiting for that to chill, you can start pitting your cherries.





Not a glutton for punishment, you say?  You can use canned, pitted ones too.  You'll need about six cups of cherries whichever way you decide to go.  By the time your cherries are pitted, you can probably go back to working with your pie dough.

Making sure you liberally flour your work surface again, roll the round piece out into a circle abut 12 inches in diameter.


The easiest way to get it into your pie plate is to roll it up over your rolling pin . . . really, it won't hurt it, and it won't stick together.


(In case you haven't noticed, making piecrust is a messy business.) 

When you have it rolled up on your rolling pin, just start at the edge of your pie plate and unroll it again.


It'll be sort of draped over your pie plate.  You'll want to gently lift it to fit it into the corners, rather than pressing it in.  Try not to stretch it.



Don't worry if it develops little holes or cracks.  Just pull a little dough from the extra around the edge and press it into place as a patch.  No one will ever know, I promise. 


When that's done, put the pie plate back into the refrigerator, as is.  You'll trim it later. 

Next, remove the remaining square piece of dough from the refrigerator.  Liberally flour your surface again, and roll it into a rectangle about 15 x 11 inches.  Move it to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper by rolling it up on your rolling pin just as you did with the earlier piece. 

Then, you'll want to use a fluted pizza cutter (or use your rotary cutter fitted with a pinking blade--Ha!) to cut it length-wise into eight 1 1/2-inch wide strips (it doesn't need to be exact, nor does it need to be perfectly even). 


Then put the whole thing back in the refrigerator to chill again while you preheat your oven and finish up your fruit filling.  In case you're not getting this, the two most important things you can do to ensure your success with piecrust is to keep it well chilled and to use plenty of flour to keep things from sticking.

Okay, now for the filling, you already have your cherries.  In a large bowl, you'll want to add 1/4 cup of cornstarch, 1 1/4 cups of sugar (adjust the sugar according to how tart your cherries are and to your personal taste preference), 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. 



Whisk that together, and then dump in your six cups of pitted cherries along with 1/4 teaspoon of almond extract.  Fold it together until all the dry ingredients are moistened.



Then remove your chilled pie plate with crust from the refrigerator and dump in the fruit.



Now comes the fun part.  Really, it's not difficult to do.  In fact, I think this is easier than doing a solid top crust. 

Here's what you do:  Remove your baking sheet with the dough strips from the refrigerator.  If they are too stiff, allow them to cool for a few minutes until they are pliable, but not too soft.  If they get too soft, just chill them again for a few minutes, then start again.

There are lots of ways to do this, but this is the way that works best for me.  First, lay four strips horizontally across the pie.  They do not need to fit perfectly, just make sure they're longer than the pie is wide.  Then, fold back the first and third strip from left to right and lay one strip vertically just to the right of center.

Don't worry if they crack or break, as mine have here.  You'll be able to press them back together as you go.  Really, you'll see what I mean in a minute. 

When that's done, re-fold strips one and three back across the pie and fold back strips two and four just the same way.  Then lay another vertical strip just to the left of center.

Then refold strips two and four back across the pie.  Now you're read to add the final two strips.  I like doing it this way:  Fold strips one and three in the opposite direction and place your vertical strip down the right side of the pie.


Re-fold them as before and do the same thing on the left side of the pie by folding back strips two and four.


Re-fold them to the edge of the pie, and voila!  You have a lattice top pie crust.  Not so bad, huh?


And just to show you that I'm not the queen of pie crusts, a couple of my strips broke.  I just pressed them back together like playdough.  When they bake in the oven, they will melt together, and no one will be the wiser.



Now you're ready to gently press the edges of the strips into the bottom crust, flute it if you wish, but I never bother with that.  I'm going to flavor, not beauty.  Finally, gently brush the top crust with water and sprinkle it with Demerera sugar.  Now you're ready to bake your pie. 

You'll want to preheat your oven along with a rimmed baking sheet to 500°F.  (My apologies to those of you suffering in the hot weather.  My personal belief is that pie is worth the sacrifice.)  When the oven is hot, place the pie on the rimmed baking sheet (be sure it's a rimmed baking sheet unless you like cleaning your oven) and reduce your oven temperature to 425°F.  Bake it for 25-30 minutes until the crust is set and beginning to brown. 



Then, rotate the pie and reduce the temperature to 375°F and bake for another 25-30 minutes or until the filling is bubbly and the crust is deep golden brown.  Then remove it from the oven and place it on a wire rack to cool for 2 hours.  If you look carefully, you can see that one of my strips broke while it was baking.  I doubt that will keep anyone from eating it.  What do you think?



Then . . . what else?  Enjoy!  I like mine with vanilla ice cream!

Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries

There are few things more beautiful  to my eye than a bowl full of cherries.  These are going into a pie today.  I picked them up at the Portland Farmers Market yesterday.  Mae and I went together.  We hadn't been for quite a while, and it was a whole new (and crowded) market.  The weather was perfect.

We always start with coffee and breakfast of the best huevos rancheros you've ever eaten.

It's made with farm fresh eggs, handmade tortillas and locally-grown vegetables, then topped with queso blanco cheese.  Yum.  It's a lot of food, and so Mae and I share a plate.  There's also home-made salsas to put on it.

The cherries and berries were the stars of yesterday's market.


The beets were beautiful too.  Sadly, I had only just purchased some at the grocery store the day before, so I passed these by.  We're probably going again next weekend, so maybe I'll pick some up then.

Love the colors on these "spring onions"


Mae picked up some of these gorgeous artichokes.  Erik loves artichokes.


There's always a lot of activity at the Farmer's Market:  guys riding unicycles and playing bagpipes (at the same time), cooking demonstrations, and balloon animals.  These kids seemed none too keen on approaching this guy with the funny balloon hat, but they were intrigued by the balloon animals.


If I had unlimited dollars and a few more arms, I would take home ALL of the lilies.



In addition to the cherries, I ended up with some sausage for Mike, a baguette from a local bakery, and a jar of kim chee . . . one of my favorite snacks.  This kim chee wasn't as spicy as the usual stuff, which just means I can eat more of it!  But now I'm off to feed the birds and then get busy pitting those cherries.  You have to pit a lot of cherries to make a pie.  More later. . .

Tigers

The last time George and I walked in the woods, he lagged far behind and acted like he didn't want to go.  I didn't get the feeling he was wary about coyotes.  Usually, he would stay by my side if that were the case.  He just wouldn't follow, and sat on the trail waiting for me to come back to him.  I guess cats get tired of walking the same path too.  We haven't walked for a couple of weeks because of that, and so on Friday, he was all ears and eyes about it.  He was ready to go again.  He's nine years old this year.  I think his age is beginning to show in his activity level.

We nearly missed the blooming of the wild tiger lilies.  They are the flower I look forward to year after year, and I protect them as if they were my children. 


Fortunately, they are off to the side of the path.  Mike hacked paths through the woods many years ago.  They were a tangle of ferns, undergrowth, and vine maples, and they were completely impassable.  Now, he rides the ATV through them occasionally to keep the path clear.  Sometimes we take a saw to cut off dead branches that fall from above.

Lately, I've been reminding him not to run over a new foxglove that has grown up in the middle of the path.


There are a lot of foxglove growing wild by the side of the road, and there are some on our neighbor's side of the fence.  Only a few wild ones have graced our side of the line (although I have planted a few).  This one is new this year.  Hopefully, Mike won't mow it down on the ATV before it has a chance to seed itself for next time around.

Aside from the tiger lilies and the foxglove, there isn't a lot blooming in the woods this time of year.  Right now, it's the ferns' time to shine.  They are huge, lush, and green right now.




I am forever trying to get under them so that I can see their lines of spores.  They seem prehistoric when seen from this side.  There are a lot of interesting things growing in the woods.  One of the things I love about photography is that it reminds me to pay attention.  I think of it as visual highlighting.  If I'm looking for my next picture, I'm looking out for what's new, beautiful, or unusual.




Speaking of lush and green . . . (Not!)  This is one of those years when I'm going to need to be grateful for whatever grows in the garden.  I want to tell the tomatoes to hurry and grow.  Time's a wasting.  They do have some flowers on them now, but honestly, I wonder if I'll get any tomatoes in the garden this year.

I gave the corn and Brussels sprouts big beds.  As you can see, only about 10% of it actually germinated.


Is that a sad sight, or what?  And isn't corn supposed to be "knee high by the 4th of July?"  Hm.  Maybe if you're George.

Another thing I've learned about gardening at our place is that I need to plant about four times as many seeds as I'm hoping for just to get as much as I really want.  But again, I've learned to be grateful for whatever I get.  There won't be enough for canning this year, but we'll get a few meals out of it. 

The only thing that is doing well in the garden this year are the beets and the lettuce.  I'll have plenty of beets for pickling, and I'll probably start harvesting leaves off the lettuce in the next few days.


If I just pick off the leaves and let the root alone, they will continue to produce lettuce for quite a while.  And I usually plant a second and third round as well so that we have lettuce for the whole season.  In fact, it's time to plant the second round now.

These are the trials of gardening in the Northwest and at a higher-than-optimal altitude than the rest of my Portland neighbors.  Fortunately, the tomatoes and the cucumbers in the greenhouse are doing well, but I've learned never to count my tomatoes before they've ripened.

As for the rest of the yard, there was one ripe cherry on the cherry tree.  The rest are all green.  I have no idea why this one is so chipper.


Our hydrangeas were really knocked back this winter.  They were one of the first things we planted when we started landscaping our place, and so they are well-established.  Still, this year, I cut out almost 90% of the plant because it was nothing more than dead wood.  Now they are small plants again.  Nevertheless, this one presented us with its first bloom of the season.

A few days ago, I was looking at images that were taken when we first looked at our place way back in April of 2002.  The previous owner was also the builder, and he was a concrete contractor.  The place was littered with the trash and tools of his trade.  One of the conditions of our offer to buy the place was that he clean up all the stuff that had been casually tossed all over.  That's an aside to explain all the litter in these "before" shots I'm about to show you.  On the positive side, he had planted a lot of beautiful, but tiny trees.  I don't remember thinking that the landscape was barren at the time, but when I look at those pictures now, I can see how much work we've put into the place.  We moved in June 1, 2002, so we've been here just a little over nine years.  (Time sure flies.)

Here's how the front of the house looked before (There was snow on the ground in April!):



Here's how the front of the house looks now:




Here's how the side of the house looked then:


These next images are taken standing on the deck and looking in the opposite direction, but I think you can get the idea.



We almost didn't buy the place because of this "before" garage.  We needed more room than for just one car, not to mention all of Mike's stuff. 

Then, I got the bright idea to build a garage.  That turned out to be quite an undertaking, but I'm glad we did it.

The old garage turned into an office for Mike.  When people come into the room and remark on how large it is, we always say, "Yes, big enough to park a car!" 

Finally, the previous owner was thoughtful enough to plant trees along the side of the shop that we see from the house.  They were tiny when we moved in.

And now they've grown big enough that they almost obscure our view.  By next year, I think they will have grown enough that the shop will be completely hidden.


So that's a little tour of our place before and after.

Today, I'm sewing the last row of blocks on my "Dave's Not Here" quilt.  And yesterday, I scored some pie cherries at the Portland Farmer's Market.  If I have everything I need, there's a cherry pie in our future.  How's your weekend going?