Pie. The three letter four letter word.

Pie.

Or more specifically, pie crusts.

You know, souffle’s more difficult cousin.

What you consider when Hollandaise sauces are down pat.

Or, if you consider most of the cookbooks (even the good ones), something so delicate and tricky that you will either turn it to leather, or possibly detonate your oven. Maybe both.

I can make a Thanksgiving style meal (Turkey, home made gravy, home made stuffing, home made cranberry sauce, one or more potato sides, and something green to pretend there are non-starchy vegetables) on pretty much no notice. Half a day, no muss, no fuss, no worries.

I can turn out credible bread, although I still need to work more on my technique.

But if I have to make dessert for Thanksgiving, that gets a whole day all on its own, while I hope that someone else will provide.

So, I took a vacation day, and signed up for Kate McDermott’s class on Piemaking at Art of the Pie.

And now? Make a peach pie to celebrate National Pie Day? No worries, there were peaches in the freezer. Nice sale on those little brie wheels at the grocery store? Just whip up a crust, add some home made peach chutney from the pantry, and it’s time for a brunch of Brie en Croute. Home made scallop and mushroom pot pies? Easy as well, you get the idea.

There are two secrets here, only one of which may be news.

The one that isn’t news is that if you have pie crust issues, take the class. Because pie turns out to be somewhere between pure baking (measure, measure, this is science) and pure savory cooking (some of this, some of that, peppers aren’t as hot this go, add more). Just measuring only works on a pie crust if Murphy has decided to reimburse you for past issues.

How it looks, and how it feels, and how it acts, and how to react to that, those are important. And there is no substitute for a hands-on class with an expert to learn those.

The one that may be news is that those cookbooks are lying to you. They keep talking about overworking the dough to the point that it sounds like touching the dough with more than one finger may ruin it forever. What they should be talking about is overheating the dough. Yes, working the dough generates gluten, but those chunks of fat intermixed are going to give you a flaky crust. If they melt so that they are evenly mixed into the flour, that’s when you are making leather.

But seriously, if it were that hard to make, it wouldn’t have been a home-cooking staple.

Update: The irony is of course that we are now eating on the paleo-diet plan, so pie is not really common. I still intend to make Kate’s gluten-free pie crust (which is a major cheat, but not leaving the diet) for Thanksgiving.

Bo Xa Dam

While in Denver, we had dinner at Kim Ba, in Aurora.

On the advice of the chef, we had Bo Xao Dam, described as “Strips of tender beef in wine vinaigrette sauce, served on a bed of lettuce, tomatoes and onion“.

Now, Seattle is sadly lacking in Vietnamese restaurants. Pho aplenty, but no non-Pho restaurants. So on our return, I started checking my collection of Vietnamese cookbooks.

Nothing.

Bupkes.

Ugatz.

Fortunately, it turns out that it isn’t a complex recipe to duplicate.

Ingredients
One or two large shallots, diced
8-10 oz of sliced flank steak
2 TBS White Wine
2 TBS Fish Sauce
2 TBS Balsamic Vinegar
2 TBS Sugar or Splenda
2 TBS Butter
One sliced tomato
Lettuce leaves

Instructions
Combine the wine, fish sauce, vinegar, and sweetener, and set aside.

Slice the tomato and place the lettuce leaves and the tomato slices on a serving platter.

Get a non-stick pan hot. If you use something other than nonstick, you will need to use additional oil. Add the shallots, and when they have just started to brown (or sooner, if you are using frozen sliced beef), add the beef. When the beef is seared on both sides, add the vinegar/wine/sweetener mixture, and blend it in well. When the liquid has reduced by approximately a quarter, add the butter, and stir it in to mount up the sauce. Pour the results over the serving platter, and serve with rice.

Update: Expect to see an updated version of this recipe soon, because the sugar is not necessary in the slightest, and you’ll want more liquid for the sauce.

My New York

I’ve spent most of the last few days in my New York.

For immigrants coming to America, New York is a land of the future, of promise, of hopes and aspirations. For many young people, New York was and is a place to start a career, bright lights, the city that never sleeps.

My New York is centered around Broadway, and stretches from 13th street down into Chinatown.

My New York is the neighborhood where my Aunt lived for as long as I can recall. My neighborhood has shakes at Silver Spur, brunch at Knickerbocker, and hours in the Strand. My New York has the Radio Shack where a younger me dealt with a manager who felt it was just fine to be rude to the teen looking at computers. It’s still there.

My New York is a new book each winter; my Aunt’s gift. Pick a book, any hardback book. I spent hours deciding exactly which book I wanted that year.

My New York is family meals in Chinatown, and trying to convince someone else to order your favorite dish so you got two choices. My New York is filled with the scents of diesel fuel and roast pork. My New York is taking the bus into Chinatown with my grandmother in the middle of a gang war in the 1980s.

My Aunt and my Grandmother died in the 1990s. I haven’t been back in Manhattan since. This week, I’ve had dinner with family that I see far too rarely. I’ve had meals with friends, and meals alone. I spent this morning in the YIVO archives, just a few blocks north, searching rare books for poems and plays. It fit.

My New York is a place of family, food, books, and ghosts. Every time I come here it is a step back through my life. I can’t leave, but I could never live here.

Seven Deadly Sins of Thanksgiving

With thanks to [info]orionxi:

Monday: Lust
If you were planning on acting on Lust this week, now is the time to do it. You know, before grandma is in the next room. Or for that matter, before the grandkids are in the next room.

Tuesday: Pride
We will make this house look clean, and neat, and organized. And then we will pretend it is always that way.

Wednesday: Envy
How do they keep this house so clean, neat, and organized? I am so jealous!

Thursday: Gluttony
Oh, good, there is room on the table. I’ll just go get the other Turkey out of the kitchen and put it next to the leg of lamb.

Friday: Avarice
I don’t care if all your child wants for Christmas is that doorbuster bargain! If she wanted it so badly, maybe you should have been here freezing at 3:30 in the morning with the rest of us! Get to the back of the line.

Saturday: Sloth
Food. Check. Shopping. Complete. Nap. Definitely time for a nap.

Sunday: Wrath
I understand that the whole country is going home today. But how is that that they are all in our line?