It's been a while. Like, more than two-and-a-half-years-a-while. So long, I can't even remember how to use Blogger.
What would have me coming back to write a pie blog after all this time? Why, the greatest of state fairs, the Iowa State Fair! (Really, it is. I have a t-shirt that says so.)
Today was the last day of the 2016 state fair, and I'm feeling a little sad, as I always do once the fair is over for the year. To cheer myself up, I turned to pie. Because pie fixes everything. (Really, it does. I have another t-shirt that says so.)
The pie I turned to was black raspberry, the one I entered in the fair yesterday. It won 3rd place in the division "A Pie Story", sponsored and judged by Kate Lebo, author of Pie School and A Commonplace Book of Pie. For the contest, entrants were required to bake a pie and write a story (fiction or nonfiction) somehow related to the pie. My third place finish garnered a personally autographed copy of Pie School, as well as an Oxo pie plate and Le Creuset pie bird, both compliments of Kitchen Collage in Des Moines.
It has been three years since I entered pies in the state fair, but doing so has me excited at the prospect (keyword) of continuing to write Pie on Sunday. So to celebrate this grand "re-opening", I am sharing with you the recipe and the story that landed another ribbon at the fair.
This
is a true story…
Black raspberry. The pie I was called to. You know,
the one that whispers ever so gently, “YOU, _(insert name)_, will be a
pie maker after all!”
My confirmation call came eleven years ago in a
not-so-gentle shout. It was a hot, steamy July morning – it’s always those hot summer
days, isn’t it? Just a few years prior, I had discovered a large patch of wild
black raspberries along the trail in the woods near my house, where my yellow
lab and I took our daily morning walk. Thinking I had found a special treasure,
each morning I would carefully collect a small container of berries and freeze
them until I had enough for a pie. But on this day, there was one slight
difference…
I was hot, and pregnant, and did I mention hot?
Rather than dress in long pants and long sleeves to protect myself from the
berry brambles and potential poison ivy as I otherwise did, I instead braved
the elements in shorts and a t-shirt. When I came out of the berry patch, I was
quite pleased with myself, for I had a substantial gathering of delicious,
stain-your-fingers-purple black raspberries. The next morning, however, I
realized I had something else: Itching. Lots of it. All over the lower half of
my legs.
I soon recalled that I had gone into those berry
brambles unprotected. I was certain I must have come into contact with poison
ivy, so after a quick internet search on what to do, I ran to the drug store
and bought out their supply of calamine lotion and Zanifel, that abrasive wash
that is supposed to scrub out the oil the poison ivy leaves behind. Wow, was
that painful! Especially after it didn’t work.
The next day I presented my legs to my doctor, who announced,
“My dear, that is not from poison ivy. Those are chigger bites – and the worst
case I have ever seen.” Those nasty little mites were making railroad tracks
all over the lower half of my legs at this point – not to mention causing the
most intense itching and torture I had ever experienced – so my doctor prescribed
an insecticidal cream to take care of them. But that didn’t work either! As the
railroad tracks began climbing farther and farther up my legs, I wondered what
other parts of my body were in danger. So once again I pleaded with my doctor
to make it stop, and he prescribed a steroid pack, which finally did the trick. Chiggers be gone!
I have never had another experience quite like that
one, the summer the chiggers turned my legs into a roadmap. Mostly because I
made sure of it, by never picking black raspberries (or anything else, for that
matter) in the wild again. In fact, my husband, having just suffered his own
miserable experience with a hot and tortured pregnant woman, planted a black
raspberry patch in our backyard immediately the next year.
And that, my friends, is how I was called, for better or worse, to black
raspberry.
Yours in pie,
Mindy
Black
Raspberry Pie
Crust:
3
c. all-purpose unbleached flour
1
tsp. salt
1
c. lard
6
to 7 T. ice water
In
mixing bowl, stir together flour and salt. Using pastry blender, cut lard into flour
mixture until pieces are size of small peas. Sprinkle 1 T. of ice water at a
time over part of flour mixture and stir gently with a fork. Push moistened
dough to side of bowl; repeat until all the dough is moistened. Divide dough in
half. Form each half into a ball. Roll out and ease 1 crust into pie pan. Roll
out second half for top crust.
Filling:
4 c. frozen black raspberries,
partially thawed
1 c. sugar
1 T. cornstarch
1 T. tapioca
Dash of salt
1 T. butter
Milk
Sparkling sugar
Combine
sugar, cornstarch, tapioca, and salt; pour over berries and combine gently. Let
stand 15 minutes. Transfer to 9-inch crust. Dot the top of filling with butter.
Lay on top crust, seal edges, and apply decorative pieces. Brush crust with
milk; sprinkle with sparkling sugar. Cover edges with foil to prevent
over-browning. Bake on middle rack at 400° for 10 minutes, reduce heat to 350°
and bake another 45-50 minutes or until crust is lightly browned and filling is
bubbly in center. Cool on wire rack.
I shared this recipe on Full-Plate Thursday at Miz Helen's Country Cottage.