A Change Has Come and It Comes with Pie

Tomorrow I have the honor of doing something absurd- leaving a job I love while grinning to Cheshire proportions. Friday is my last day at Edelman after three and a half fantastic years.

All of this because Monday will be my first day on the digital team at Obama for America.

I’m joining the team to do whatever I can to ensure Barack Obama is reelected, as I believe him to be one of the single greatest agents for positive change my generation will know. I’m doing it because it absolutely qualifies as a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity to be part of something *big*, on behalf of something I so wholeheartedly believe in.

And because this is still a food blog and this is how we celebrate… I baked a pie. I will save you from any self-assigned deep metaphorical meaning and just tell you it’s an apple pie topped with half blueberries and half cranberries and it was delicious.

Baked goods aside (for now), I have every reason to believe this could be the single hardest thing I’ve ever taken on. I’m on the brink of being fully absorbed into a challenge so rich that it will swallow me whole for the next year by every account, including that of my new colleagues. And yet I can feel myself humming in anticipation, ready to dig in, understand, and be useful. There is a very real chance that everything I've done to date has led me straight to this whether I was aware of it or not.

For the last few years I have had the supreme good fortune of filling a role at Edelman that more often than not felt tailored to me like a glove, and definitely the kind with the nerdy tip points for texting. I've spent the last three years reading stories and meeting the women and men behind them. I've watched voices from the depths of the Internet become credible and recognized voices of “the people.” There are days when I even feel like I had a bit part in setting up the loudspeakers.

Not to mention the adventures. One after the other after the next and I came home breathless and chattering nonstop. I met her! We ate there! We had the best idea! From Portland to Asheville to Austin to San Diego and New York, New Jersey and New Orleans, I was buzzing. And I was pinching myself all the while for being the one that got to connect the dots. For getting to do it in such fine company.

I work with a bunch of nerds and it’s the highest compliment I can think to give in this context. People with the wanton ability to geek out over feed readers, measurement theories and platform coding but it goes beyond that.

I’m talking about food policy wonks, letterpress junkies, women in waders in search of a quiet spot with all the fish. People who run marathons with hip fractures because you cannot stop them from moving and try at your own peril. Star Wars junkies, chorus girls, music nuts, a fascinating breed of style curators and even a NASCAR fan. There may even have been a few fellow kitchen witches, Gryffindors, cat ladies and bourbon lovers. Just maybe. They are the kind of people who rave rave rave on about that thing you must try because it’s spectacular.

I can’t underline the importance of working with people who are passionate. Who are excited and eager and, above everything else, they are curious.

How does that work? Can I take it apart and will there be something simple and true at the center of it? Yes? Then let’s go there.

Yes. Let’s. I have a good feeling that I’m not done with the nerds. If anything, the stakes may have just been raised. Now that the secret is out, you know where to find me in 2012. There’s work to be done and if you feel like helping, I will gladly take you up on that.

Be advised, I'll be asking for your vote as well.

Down on the Farm

It's midweek at this point but I'm still glowing from a proper Midwestern summer weekend. It kicked off with wine on my neighbor's deck, an overly wondrous nap and a birthday for one of my Mondays. If you can believe it, things just continued to climb from there.

Look at those beautiful, beautiful berries- it was another sweet year for the Jerseys at Joe's. The day was supposed to be nasty but we were running out of time to get our fruit so Molly and I drove out to Bangor anyway, fully prepared for rain and mud.

80, overcast and smelling of rain- perfect for picking. It didn't hurt that we arrived to some familiar faces on the wall.

Or that the sun came out as soon as our buckets were good and full. The light came in through the weave in my hat, leaving me with superfreckles I got quite attached to.

There was sour cherry beer to try and even a proper Blueberry jam session happening in the farmhouse. The boy with the marracas was my favorite.
I just love being on that farm. It's full of vintage farm equipment, wood-sided Wagoneers, cold beers and a collage of the state of Illinois I'd like to have run off with.

We couldn't believe our luck so we pushed it and drove 15 more minutes to South Haven.

I was pretty well coated in mud from getting all up in those blueberry bushes so it was in the water almost immediately then down for the count.

Five o'clock rolled around and we decided on a late lunch/early dinner in town. One Oberon, please. I think they brew this stuff specifically to be drunk on old wood decks overlooking Lake Michigan. This was the only one though and we drove home shortly thereafter. Unreal how close a vacation of that nature actually is- we were home by seven.

The next morning had its own fun. Bruce emailed to say he had a plethora of eggs from his chickadees and I think I waited all of 2 minutes to volunteer my house for consumption. I literally pulled an egg out from underneath a chicken in one of the laying boxes. This whole urban farm thing? I am a fan.

And then even though we had brunch plans with Kelly at Delish, I cooked it. I couldn't help it. I have a whole new meaning for 10 minute eggs. Hope your summers are churning out equally wonderful weekends.

Summer Berry Spectacular (and a Pie Party)

I am wrapping up a four day weekend in the summer sunshine. Four days of relaxed schedules, friendly cookouts, garden tending and patio parties. It's every bit of bliss inferred. On top of that, I baked every day. Saturday, Sunday, Monday all had a different ode to summer fruit in its finest forms (including juice-running-down-face-au-natural).

Today, though, we're talking about my favorite of the oven-plied loves...pie. When I heard Shauna speak at IACP in Austin a few weeks ago, the thing she said that resonated most was this:I bring pie just about everywhere. There are some photos below of what happens when we need to mix things up a bit but my first love is whatever is in season wrapped in a golden swath of crisp layers I made with my own hands. Thanks to Kate McDermott, I don't even use a food processor anymore. It's just not necessary and a pie crust is certainly not a thing to be fretted over. Hence the necessity of the Pie Party. As though a better occasion ever existed.

When Shauna announced her plan for a #PieParty, most of us didn't even have to consider an occasion. More of an "if you bake it, they will come" sort of thing. My friend Suzanne has recently taken homemade ice cream up as her personal passion so her place seemed to be the one most in need of a pie partner. Blueberry Pie it is. I had blueberries on my mind anyway.

This will be my second year "leasing" a blueberry bush from Joe's Blues in Bangor, Michigan. Last year's adventure is documented with great affection below. I'm told by those who would know that July 21st will mark the beginning of picking season this year. That's in two weekends for the planners out there.

I recommend the Corrado's operation highly if 20lbs of fresh, sustainably grown blueberries sounds good to you for $35. Seriously, clear some space in your freezer. Mananya is in on a bush this year as well. I don't think I've ever leant my face or massive orange sunhat to a more worthy summer cause though this was a hilarious surprise to find in our mailbox:Bring along picking companions who are by nature efficient beings and happy to be just the littlest bit filthy. If one of them happens to have a 4WD vehicle to make the post-pick venture to the "swimming hole" afterward, all the better, but it is not for the faint of heart.


This is an easy day trip from Chicago and close to a number of fine little beach towns if you're inclined to rinse off in Lake Michigan afterward. Hats are encouraged. Frank let Molly and Patty borrow two of his tango hats and they looked so cute we just about took them with us.

Thankfully we thought better of it and took our blueberries for a beer and a BLT instead. Incidentally no one raised an eyebrow when we walked into the tavern with pounds and pounds of blueberries. Goodnight I love Michigan. And blueberries. And the pies that are made in their honor.

Blueberry July Pie
Crust
1 package of Kerrygold (I typically do half butter, half lard but sacre bleu I was out of the pig's portion)
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
pinch of cinnamon
1/2 cup-3/4 cup ice cold water

Make sure that butter is really cold and cut it into rough 1/2 inch chunks. Drop in the flour that's been dropped into a cold bowl with the salt and cinnamon and start working your (cold) hands to pinch the butter into the flour mixture until you get it mixed into not quite uniform pea and almond size pieces. Add your water (remove any ice) and mix with a fork till you get a slightly sticky ball. Split in two, wrap each half in plastic and chill for 2 hours.

Roll out and lay the bottom layer carefully into your pie dish.

Filling
6 cups of fresh blueberries
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 cup amaretto
scant 1/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt
2 TB tapioca

Add it all together and fill your bottom pie crust. Add the other crust on top, fold the edges under and pinch at even 1/2 inch intervals so the pie is sealed. Cut vents to your liking in the top and bake atop a foil lined baking sheet for 45 minutes-ish at 350.

Other Baked Berry Goodness for which ice cream is nonnegotiable:
Now pie is not the only way to show love and friendship. It's a good one but there are clearly lots of others, particularly this time of year. The summer berry crisp above is a story for a different day made for Jim and Michelle's housewarming cookout. It is easy and delicious and was based on Sandy's Summer Berry Crisp with amaretto used in lieu of cointreau, strawberries for blueberries and almonds subbed for walnuts. Negligible changes based on my personal pantry- the recipe is a good one!

The recipe that actually made it to the Fourth of July was a request from Gina, our hostess for an especially patriotic Monday dinner. Our almost-new-mom-friend-in-Sweden had shared some perfectly craveable Peach Cupcakes with Blackberry Buttercream Frosting and they were every bit as good as advertised. Laura, I don't think we can ship one to Scandinavia before it melts/the baby arrives but you should feel good that another lovely pregnant blondie benefited from your find.
All in all just a really lovely weekend. I almost said "with a few of my berry best friends" but then I remembered I am a pie person and not a shortcake. Pies don't suffer that level of foolishness. I think they revoke your lard license.

Thinking Ahead to a Fall Feast

Sisters of the Pie from by.luuvu on Vimeo.

As I have raved and raved about for close to 8 months now, I took a pie-making class from Kate McDermott in Seattle and it was as close to transcendent as pastry lesson could really be. There are very few places I'd rather be in November than Provence with she and her counterpart Kate in France, Kate Hill. Kate Hill may be better known to some of you as a mother of Charcutepalooza. If you happen to be available, a fan of proper farm to table cooking and unopposed to fall in Provence- Pig & Pie is for you.

Gansu to the Garden: Grilling Season (Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers and Pesto Stuffed Portabellas)

For those of you residing beyond the Great Lakes' finest grid, Chicago just wrapped up a banner weekend. It was this beautiful, sunny bit-o-glory that glittered like a preview of a fine season to come. Saturday was spent harvesting compost, spreading that fertile wormy goodness out on the new vegetable patch, planting onions and garlic, breaking up peat moss and the like. I was devoutly rank by the end of it and it felt like pure perfection.

Sunday opened up to much the same but I don't regret investing most of it in a bar-tending class with the Martini Queen of the South Side- pretty sure you'll see some of those skills popping up as the summer works its way forward. That being said, we were determined to squeeze a few additional outdoor hours in once class wrapped. Time to christen that grill.

Sorry for all the we-talk but it was the usual suspects. Molly, Jaime, Dave and Lisa- with all the travel schedules it legitimately felt like we were all variations on the Goldilocks bears, creaking out of hibernation. Dave is freshly returned from a month in China (hence the Gansu reference) and Lisa is still so excited that she's cooking. "She who brings the wine" has discovered quite a cook's streak and I don't see her slowing down anytime soon. In fact she's quite eloquently laid out her approach to both of these recipes over at Elle Michelle.

Lucky us:

Sharing the screen time above was my main contribution- Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers. Cooks Illustrated has a handy how-to on grilling scallops in their May/June issue and I just so happened to have a bag of the frozen bay variety in the freezer. I love it when that happens.


The recipe tasted pretty great but I think it might have looked even better. Keep your Skittles, this is the much-preferred method of tasting the rainbow.


Just above the skewers themselves was another grill friendly creation. It is a non-secret that I love mushrooms. A friendlier food never did exist in my opinion and, by the by, I held that opinion long before my Mushroom Channel days (client). That being said, those lovely caps were a riff on my first favorite stuffed portabella recipe from a couple summers ago.

Seeing as there was less Oberon involved this time, I had the good sense to simplify. That recipe accompanies the skewers below. I also just have to note that Oberon season is upon us again and it's the equivalent of being grateful for the sunshine only you can drink it. I said it. Bell's Oberon is drinkable sunshine.

In the midst of the grilling process, there was plenty of time for Dave to chase his favorite tail around the garden (not literally though, my timing was just funny for that one on the left). Typically HC has sprinted in the opposite direction whenever Dave comes over. His affection for her is that powerful. I think she must have missed him though because that Hocat was feeling quite coquettish, a reminder of the season.

We finished off dinner with a baby apple pie a la mode- a 7 inch pie dish is the perfect amount for six eaters. That brings my tally up to four pies in two weeks. In case you needed another reminder that the season is changing.

Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers
5 wood skewers that have been soaking in water for at least 30 minutes

2lbs bay scallops, rinsed and dried (And thawed if they were frozen. Come on, guys.)
1 blood orange cut into 1/2 inch wedges
1 tangerine cut into 1/2 inch wedges
1 cup whole basil leaves
15 brightly colored sweet bonnet peppers

1 TB flour
1 tsp cornstarch
1/2 tsp citrus salt (kosher salt will be just fine but go fancy if you're feelin it)
Lots of fresh ground pepper
1 TB citrus zest (I used orange but anything would work here)
2 1/2 TB vegetable oil

First, put your skewers together. Take one pre-soaked skewer and stab one of your bigger peppers. From there the order is as follows: folded up basil leaf, 2 scallops, blood orange slice, 2 scallops, basil leaf, tangerine slice, 2 scallops, pepper and repeat one more time till you get to the end of the skewer and it looks about as pictured.

Second, mix all of your grill marinade ingredients in a small bowl (makes a loose paste) and brush both sides of your completed skewers.

Grill at a medium flame for about 4-5 minutes per side or until they've have a nice, even char grill lines. Enjoy!

Pesto Stuffed Portabellas
1/4 cup prepared pesto (I defrosted some from last summer)
1/2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 cup spinach leaves
1/2 cup basil leaves
3 portabella mushroom caps, excess dirt brushed off and stem removed
Cooking spray (I am a new convert to the Spectrum Organic Olive Oil Spray)
Your favorite goat cheese (Prairie Fruits for me, please)

I actually found that the easiest way to start was to give each mushroom cap a light coating of olive oil all the way around then season it generously with fresh pepper. Then I felt ready to start filling.

Stir the pesto and Dijon together and spread an even amount at the base of each mushroom. It's only a small amount of mustard so it doesn't disrupt the pesto flavor but does add a nice bite. You could also achieve this with some fresh lemon juice. From there, start alternating layers of basil and spinach leaves. Three of each is more than enough but it will wilt down. From there, press your goat cheese into the the top leaves to secure all the filling. Top with chopped leftover greens.

These are on the grill the same amount of time as the scallop skewers, though please don't flip them :) 8-10 minutes total (with lid on) or ready when the cap turns dark brown and the goat cheese is getting golden on the top.

TGI Pieday: Pie to Bring You Back from the Brink

It's not really a secret that I'm a pie person. It's my thing. I can make a mean cake but it will never be pie. Pie is proof that somewhere in me lies the ability to be patient for all the right reasons. Pie requires me to know what I'm doing but hold it loosely without overthinking. All things I could stand to mimic in other nooks. But pie did not spring from a kitchenwomb fully formed. In the last few years, I've tried all butter crusts, half butter/half shortening crusts, crusts with ice water and crusts with ice vodka. Hand pies and lattice pies and pies that required a turkey baster to unjuice.

The pies themselves have been chocolate cream, lemon meringue, apple cheddar, cherry bourbon (Manhattan), cherry peach, strawberry rhubarb, coconut cream and, finally, peach straight up. All throughout my pie-making history I've made them for the people I loved and they consistently reflect the state of my non-pastry being. I'm a big believer in the ability to infuse food made by hand with a little bit of what you're going through at the time, a la Like Water for Chocolate. With pie crust, all ten fingers are literally in the dough- kneading and patting and shaping- how could you not lose track of a few stray pieces of love, lust, sad or worry? The crust- it knows.

But in August, I wasn't making pie at all. In the height of Midwestern fruit season, that was a signpost and all it said was "lost." I was at a fork in the road and I had nothing of substance to eat with that fork. No clear direction in the proverbial yellow wood.

Sometimes the light ahead appears from the least deliberate of places. Meet Kate. My pie angel and the voice of Art of the Pie, which incidentally sounds exactly like her speaking and you should read it regularly. I met her at the end of August when I headed up to Seattle for a pretty fantastic weekend at IFBC and some quality time with Pop Pop. The fact that there was a pie class offered through a conference I was technically attending as part of my job is yet another marker that I'm in the right line of work.

I signed up at the last minute and knew immediately that I was in the right place. Kate is every bit herself, but she reminded me of a cross between my friends Mary Beth and Janine in spirit.

Beyond introducing me to the pie crust I'd been looking for, she showed us that it just doesn't have to be that hard. No need to peel the peaches before slicing them, they're fine as they are. No fussing with a food processor when a couple forks and cold fingers would do. No crying over dry pie dough. It's almost always fixable and when it's not? You can start over. I didn't realize until then that I was looking for the permission to do exactly that.

The pie we made in class was a peach pie with peaches from Frog Hollow Farm. This is a place I was totally ignorant of until August and I'm not entirely sure how that happened. All I can offer by way of excuse is that my Southern/Midwestern life has been thousands of miles from the perfect groves of peaches, apples, pears and apricots. Kate passed an uncut peach around the class, followed by a plate of slices. You did not need to actually get your snout right down to the fuzz to smell the sweetness coming off the whole fruit. When the slices got to me, I knew why. Whoa. I'm a fan of more locally grown Michigan peaches but this was another hemisphere of flavor.

I don't know how they did it but I needed more peaches and I needed them fast. As a gift of timing, it turned out that we were in Seattle for the end of Peachorama at Seattle's City Markets which meant I could actually buy fresh Frog Hollow peaches while in town. The next chance I got, I was in line with my own pallet-o-peaches and everything I needed to recreate that pie for my grandfather (the perfect audience for all edible treasure).

Once the conference wrapped, I got myself straight back to Sammamish with all my treasures in tow. I couldn't rectify the leaf lard situation (Kate's reco) without some serious sourcing but there's nothing wrong with an all-butter crust so long as you're using a Euro-style butter (Kerrygold, Plugra).

Another little revelation beyond the leaf lard was the inclusion of tapioca with the fruit to hold the pie together. I'd never had anything with tapioca in it other than bubble tea and had also been a little wary of thickeners in my pie. Flour always seems to dull the flavors a bit and Arrowroot and Cream of Tartar can be detectable flavors if not stored correctly. Kate's pie actually sliced without hemorrhaging all the sauciness that makes a proper bite. Not a hint of minerality. I'm officially a believer, particularly for juicy fruits like high season peaches or cherries.

I sliced a peach for Pop to snack on while I worked out the crust with a floured wine bottle. By 8 we were happily couched watching Moonstruck and digging into a beautiful piece of pastry still warm in the middle. I was one slice into the first of my new pie life and actually brought peaches home to make another pie for friends immediately.


We may have had it cold for breakfast with a little yogurt before I left for the airport. These are the things one does with an unapologetically hedonistic grandfather. At least I know I come by it honestly.

Once I got back to Chicago, I got in touch with my pig people at Slagel Family Farm on the hunt for leaf lard (the fat between the kidneys on pigs) and they did not disappoint. Three days later I retrieved a 5 lb tub of lard from my customary pick-up at Mado. The waitstaff was just ramping up when I got there and I explained my plans to them. I still think I owe Rob and Allie a pie for opening up the connection with Slagel. Seems like an appropriate gift on the opening of there new butcher shop, Butcher and the Larder (all responsibly, sustainably raised animals). Note that the tub actually says "Jeffy" which amused Molly to no end. The lard is mostly tasteless but definitely has a subtle, savory hint of bacon. Can you imagine anything better to complement a sweet peach pie?

True to promise, Kate's crust recipe held up and my Chicago peach pie had the layers of crust I'd been looking for (thanks to the different melting points of the lard and butter). I know I sound dramatic here but I'd been working at it for years- this was big.

Now that I had my crust, it was game on for baking. I made a little chocolate cream pie just because the Dawson sisters stopped by.


I made a miniature coconut cream pie for Molly's birthday. By the by, these little pie dishes are a bargain and come in every color of the rainbow.

There was another little chocolate cream pie for Nicole and Jamie's visit to Chicago.


Then apple season arrived by the truckload from Michigan and Indiana.

The crust held up when latticed with ribbons of pastry puffing up in all the right places.

The crust held up in general. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving, marks the unofficial climax of pie season. I hope that those of you who are baking will take this crust into consideration and fill it with all the thanks you want to give to the people at your table. I'm thankful for the pies that got me to this one and the ones still ahead of me. I'm grateful for a kitchen consistently full of people I care about to eat the pies that are made there.

I know it sounds cheesy but it's not. It's pie. And pie is love.

Kate McDermott's Pie Crust Recipe can be found on her blog, Art of the Pie. If you are ever in the Seattle area and in need of spiritual pastry guidance, she meditates on 8 inch pie plates regularly.

Farmstand Toast- I Put A Egg On It

It was a real weekend. Tonight I feel like I have been wrung out like a tea towel but I take nothing back. Not the driving day to Wisconsin. Not the Sprecher's root beer or the spit-roasted chicken. I do not take back the pounds of produce purchased in a house bearing painted mushroom murals. I don't take back a whiskeydrink, a nip of pie crust, a lobster corndog or a single second of sunshine filtered through a large straw hat.

I can't bring myself to regret the hours spent being decidedly awake and giddy when I would typically have been drooling into a pillow. It was a real weekend, filled with ice cream and friendlies and dancing in the grass. I would not take the hippiechild moments back, even though it means I've launched into full-on cat stretches and cavernous yawns throughout the afternoon and evening.

While most of the weekend was spent as a fuzzy sweatfox (caught in a near constant state of music and junk food-fueled rush), I gave myself a break on Sunday. Knowing the day ahead would be festival hours and festival food, I took a look at my foodstuffs and set to work on a simple and delicious brunch that could easily transition to lunch or dinner.

Lake Geneva- Love that this could just as easily be 1970 as 2010. Gimme my glam rock and denim shorts.

We'd stopped at River Valley Mushrooms on the way back from Lake Geneva the day before (the Mushroom Council is a client but this was not official business. In the least.). I was thrilled to see more than just an array of the shrooms themselves but a full farmstand spread including muskmelon, golden plums, peaches, cherry tomatoes- all of which came home with me.

A slow morning with a light rain and nowhere to be for a few hours- that's the break needed from a really rascally weekend fun run. I'd been gifted with a loaf a multigrain bread from Flourish and thus proper toast has been the basis for many meals this last week. Two slices tossed into their dedicated blackener and I set to work on the veggies.

One big frying pan took on quartered creminis, halved garden cherry tomatoes and angular pieces of gai laan (Chinese broccoli), my latest vegetable obsession. All were sauteed in a small amount of olive oil with a minced clove of fresh garlic until they were cooked but still bright. From there I just scooted the veggies over and cracked a fresh egg into the pan, letting the whites go opaque on both sides. Ironically, tonight's bedtime reading is actually a new foodzine called "Put A Egg On It." So far so good- thanks Tasting Table for the tip.

The toast came out hot and crunchy and was immediately spread with a thin layer of Prairie Fruits Farm goat cheese then layered with the vegetables and topped with a single shared egg. It was fresh and light and the perfect way to temper some unapologetically indulgent behavior the rest of the weekend.

Case in point: Peach Blueberry Pie, served still-warm after being cut open with a pocket switchblade and passed in-dish from person to person with a pair of shared utensils. Cheap beer chaser encouraged. Felt right to end on that.

There's Always Time for Pie. Always.

These are strawberries that ripened two miles down the road from my parents' house. The air on Cape Cod is sea salty and all bakers worth their sel know what a little salt does for sweetness. It fundamentally moves the sweetness of a berry and, in my personal experience, leads to a juicy mouthstain Sephora would be behooved to copyright.

Not pictured is the rhubarb, which is a shame. There are children who don't know what rhubarb looks like. Rhubarb is stocky with an exterior not unlike celery. It is one of those lovely pinky reds not frequently found in edible nature. It is tart and and is glorious cooked down into compote and served over Greek yogurt. Or vanilla ice cream. Or Couer a la Creme. Or a spoon.

This is a pie that's been filled up with goodness. I do understand that goodness is a subjective term but strawberry and rhubarb grown in running distance of where said pie is being rolled out absolutely qualifies. Particularly since I can't run very far, very fast. Unless it's toward pie, which has been my exercise momentum in one form or another to date.

This is a pie that's been basted with yolk using the back of a teaspoon. Teaspoons work when your mother has a beautiful kitchen and too many drawers for brushes to hide in. Just be gentle. Pies are more sensitive than they are ticklish.

This is my pie. Strawberry Rhubarb. It was the first pie I made from scratch, for Jaimeson. It was the pie I made with a broken Honeyed heart. It was the pie I greeted a baby with. Last weekend it was the first pie I made for my family who I'd love to cook for more often if we weren't always dashing around, miles apart.

It is my pie of summer, always perfectly in season around my birthday in any place I care to be. I have yet to do a lattice perfectly but I also can't say I'm paying that much attention once I'm working on it. Detail orientation eludes the pie and I. Light dustings of flour will coat the entirety of the kitchen and someone may have a snowy handprint on their back. No matter what, the juice always bubbles up in the oven. My pie is excitable and imperfect and mostly sweet but those little bits of tart rhubarb will catch you off guard every third bite or so.

It's been a wild week but there was time for pie and that counts for everything.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Filling adapted from Smitten Kitchen, Crust adapted from Orangette
Serves 8

Crust
8 Tbsp. ice water, plus more as needed
1 ½ tsp. apple cider vinegar (combined with water and kept in fridge till needed)
3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 ½ Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes

Filling
3 1/2 cups 1/2-inch-thick slices trimmed rhubarb (1 1/2 pounds untrimmed)
1 16-ounce container strawberries, hulled, halved (about 3 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar (scant)
1/3 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 large egg yolk beaten to blend with 1 teaspoon water (for glaze)

Crust: Combine flour, sugar and salt using a pastry cutter or food processor. I went with the cutter because I tell myself it burns calories later consumed and forgotten. Cut in butter until coarse meal forms. Blend in enough ice water 2 tablespoons at a time to form moist clumps. Gather dough into ball; cut in half. Flatten each half into disk about 1/2 inch thick. Wrap separately in plastic; refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour. Keep chilled. Let dough soften slightly at room temperature before rolling. Can be made 1 day ahead and you could also do a double batch and wrap two disks of your four discs tightly to freeze for future pies.

Filling: Preheat oven to 400°F. Combine first 7 ingredients in large bowl. Toss gently to blend.

Putting it Together: Roll out 1 dough disk on floured work surface to 13-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch pie dish. Trim excess dough, leaving 3/4-inch overhang.

Roll out second dough disk on lightly floured surface to 13-inch round. Cut into fourteen 1/2-inch-wide strips. Spoon filling into crust. Arrange 7 dough strips atop filling, spacing evenly. Form lattice by placing remaining dough strips in opposite direction atop filling. Trim ends of dough strips even with overhang of bottom crust. Fold strip ends and overhang under, pressing to seal. Crimp edges decoratively.

Brush/Spoonback yolk over crust. transfer pie to baking sheet. Bake 20 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Bake pie until golden and filling thickens, about another 25 minutes.