My last posting was about cake (metaphorical, but still...). This one is all about pie.
I love pie as much as I love cupcakes, which is a lot. Especially cream pies. However, the multitude of backyard BBQs I've been to this summer have failed to impress me in the pie arena. No offense, but cream pie, to me, does not equal store-bought crust, instant Jello pudding mix and whipped topping. I think I'm just spoiled.
There is a little diner called Stott Brothers on the highway between Upper Hillsborough, NH and Stonington, CT (where we have relatives) that makes HANDS DOWN the BEST cream pies in the world. I mean 5lbs of tender, flakey crust, thick homemade pudding and real whipped cream (NOT out of a can) good. I grew up eating this pie. Jello just doesn't cut it for me.
After yet another instant pudding based "pie" appeared on our break room table at work yesterday, I had a hankering for a real pie. Plus, I really wanted to use my coveted Emile Henry (pronounced "Emeel Onree," not "Emilee Henree") ruffled pie dish. I dug out my mother's tattered copy of James Beard's iconic cookbook and got to work.
The end result wasn't very pretty, but it was delicious! For all you perfectionists out there, I suppose I should have cleaned up the edges of the (beautiful!) pie plate before photographing it. But this isn't some Stepford Wives blog. This is about real people nesting. And real people have messy pie plates. Right?
Next stop? Banana cream.