Persimmon Pie

My sister was quite the monkey when we were growing up – there wasn’t a tree she couldn’t climb. She said the secret was in her feet; she has unusually long toes, which she claims grip as well as fingers. (So weird.) The first tree she climbed was a persimmon tree, and I remember this because she picked one and it splattered on the ground. I thought it was just as well because, for all I knew, it was a gigantic poisonous pod. My dad, who came running because a neighborhood kid had wrongly reported that my sister was “suck,” told me it was a persimmon, edible and quite good, and stood awhile gaping, probably reminiscing about his own mischief-filled childhood and wondering how this Asian fruit tree had ended up in semi-urban Florida. For a long time after, however, I harbored a suspicion of persimmons, and it wasn’t until my late teens that I actually tried it for the first time (out of peer pressure and politeness, I think). The ripe bittersweet flavor wasn’t as horrible as I’d imagined it to be. Perhaps even good, objectively speaking. But for some reason, it never captured my taste buds, and I still approach the persimmon with skepticism… even to this day.

But pies must be made. Even with fruit arousing skepticism. And who knows? Maybe I might like it in dessert form, watered down with sugar, spices, and chewy chunks!

The crust was a gingersnap-walnut crumb crust. I realize that this looks like a strange gingersnaps ad. It was my first time working with the cookie and I was excited. Hehe. (Thanks again for the delivery, lil bro!)

The batter, mostly pureed Hachiya (mushy) persimmon, was very chunky and included diced Fuyu (firm) persimmons, golden raisins, walnuts, candied citrus peel, and candied ginger. What a nice medley of flavors and textures!

I couldn’t get candied ginger anywhere, so I made them myself. (David Lebovitz saves the day, once again!) The syrupy kind for the filling and the sugared ones for garnish.

It felt like autumn in my mouth :)

And it didn’t taste anything like persimmons! That may sound like a flop, but I’d call that a success. Yay! It’s recommended as an alternative to the pumpkin pie, but I’d say the only things they really have in common are the complementary spices and the color. I’d suggest this pie to people who like a variety of chewy bits in their dessert. As for me, the candied ginger garnish was the best part; I think it gave the pie the perfect pungent kick! 

Pure Rhubarb Pie

I used the rest of the rhubarb I had left to make a mini rhubarb-only pie. It was supposed to have a lattice top, but I settled for a scattering of flowers because there wasn’t enough of the mascarpone dough left. I know, I have the lamest excuses. But I think it came out quite cute! I think I might try it again with berry tarts.

It was my first time eating a pure rhubarb pie (I think), and it was interesting (= strange). The circumstances weren’t optimal to make a proper judgment; I’d baked the pie the day before so the crust was quite soggy, and the rhubarb had been frozen and defrosted… at least twice. Even so, I’d have to say that it sort of felt like I was eating a vegetable, mushy celery perhaps, and I don’t really like vegetables in my dessert. That’s what salads are for. I’d have to try a well-made pie before signing off (or on) to rhubarb. But for now, I say, strange indeed…

Deep-dish Blueberry/Cranberry Internet Pie

I realize I’ve only been making fruit pies lately. And here’s another one, the fruitiest of them all – a deep-dish pie with double (or triple?) the filling. Just look at it all ooze out! The only drawback was that I could only eat one piece!

The crust, both top and bottom, came out beautifully (= crispy). The only problem that I’m having is with the glaze. If I apply a layer, milk in this instance, the browning comes out patchy (the little flowers). If I don’t apply anything, the browning stops at a less enticing hue (around the edges). What to do? More experimentation, probably.

The filling was quite delectable! I wish I’d taken pictures of the luscious blueberries and cranberries macerating together because the pile of blue and red marbles were quite a sight. And the sheer amount that went in the pie – nearly a whole large bowl – would have astonished… and delighted.

The pie was for my former housemate, who’d recently gotten married and moved to an idyllic little city an appropriate distance from Seoul. I remember her as a perfect Stepford wife (minus the husband, of course), and I always felt a wee-bit guilty for not being very attentive around the house when we were living together. Her impeccable housekeeping skills are finally being appreciated properly, I think! She also had a very keen eye for décor and pretty things, like the dainty little pink flower-patterned dish in the first picture and the chic Villeroy & Boch wave café cup and saucer above. My mom had long coveted the latter, but never got around to buying it because it never went on sale. So when I saw it in my friend’s cabinet, I very nearly insisted on using it. (She saw the glint in my eyes and obliged before I could insist. Hehe.) And I must say, the pie and coffee tasted particularly scrumptious!

Cherry & Blueberry Turnovers with Peanut Butter Ice-Cream

Doe is very skeptical.

I used leftover pie dough (and leftover cherry filling) to make the turnovers, which is probably why they turned out looking somewhat like leftovers. It reminded me of the Korean adage, rice cakes that look better also taste better. Because these did not taste very good. Not bad. But not good either. I think it was the first time I finished pie because I was hungry… The peanut butter ice-cream was at least very good:)

Cherry Rhubarb Lattice Pie

What an enticing pie.

I’ve heard stories, from several sources, of making pie with the rhubarb that grows, almost like weeds, in backyards. In fact, backyard-rhubarb-pies seem like a deeply ingrained part of Anglo-American culinary culture and a dear childhood memory for many. But where would I get rhubarb in Korea?

Then I remembered trying, for the first and only time, rhubarb pie at Tartine, the only place with reasonably good pie in the country. This proved that rhubarb did exist here. But its scarcity also suggested difficulty, perhaps even a monopoly, in procurement. What to do, what to do? And on one sleepless night (more like morning; it was 5 a.m.) I decided to send them an email asking where they got their rhubarb and if I could maybe-possibly-perhaps get in on it too. A few weeks later, I got an answer saying that I could buy some from their shop. Wonderful!

Finding a rare ingredient in Korea arouses mixed feelings, a combination of elation… and ache. Elation at finding something thought to be unobtainable, quite like spotting washed up treasure on the beach. But also a twinge of ache because whatever makes it across the oceans has lost most traces of freshness and luster. Someday, I’ll have steady access to all the fresh ingredients I want. Or perhaps, though much less likely, I’ll start cooking Korean food.

The rhubarb is imported frozen, like many of the fruits that I use for my pies. When I thawed and drained the juices, they lost much of their structure. (Sigh.) But I saved and used the juice, instead of water, for the following procedures for extra taste-ful flavor.

I bought the cherries at the bargain bin for 50% off, way back in August. They looked fine and were so cheap, I couldn’t just pass them by. My original plan was to make brandied cherries for the Black Forest tart, but they ended up hibernating in my freezer for a couple of months.

I tried to scoop out the pits with a hair pin, as suggested, then a whole bunch of hairpins twisted together, but they were too flimsy and bent before doing any dislodging. So, I had to perform some serious caesarian-seed-sections.

The cherries and rhubarb macerating in sugar and juice!

I pulled out all the stops for this pie, I did (to some great results!). I tried baking the pie on the floor of the oven for the first time. I was so nervous about possible burning that I parked myself in front of my oven and monitored the entire baking process. (Well, I dragged my laptop to the floor and semi-watched sitcoms throughout.)

I think this was the best pie that I’ve made so far! The crust was perfectly flaky and crispy, even the bottom crust – I think I’ll be baking on the oven floor from now on. The filling was gooey and the chunks juicy, all without a hint of runniness. And everything kept their shape and color very well. It was pretty darn close to pie-perfection! The only drawback was that I could hardly taste the rhubarb for the cherries. (I’ll have to try the pure rhubarb pie pretty soon!)

And…

The inevitable finally happened. I found a strand of hair in the pie. Gasp! I knew this would happen sooner or later, it was just a matter of when. I’m just hugely relieved that it ended up in the piece that I was eating. Or has it happened before and have my friends just been too polite to mention it? Well, rest assured, the hair is, at least, very clean – I only have my hair down during pie-making when it’s wet from a recent washing. And what else do you expect from a homemade pie anyway?

Open-Faced Fresh Blueberry Pie

Another blueberry pie.

This one’s a mini! Even doe thinks it’s cute.

Doe has a little secret about her true identity. She’s actually a magnet! Yes, she’s a functional component of this world. But she likes to appear incognito in pictures; this is why she always peers from the right.

The pie was good. The filling was a little runny because I used frozen berries, which were only partially cooked. (Ah, I would so love to use fresh, not frozen, ingredients someday!) But the sour cream crust was exceptionally crispy (though not a hint of the sour cream taste). If I could get the filling to gel, I would prefer this over the regular blueberry pie. Or I would prefer the regular, if I could get the bottom crust as crispy. Seems like there’s always a trade-off!

A French Chuseok Feast and Apple Tart with Walnut Cream

Chuseok, or Korean Thanksgiving, is one of my least favorite times of the year. Mostly because my Korean holiday memories are of family feuding and fighting. Uhg. I think the most memorable Chuseok I had was when I argued my way out of visiting relatives and attended a funeral instead. It was great. (No disrespect to the departed and my condolences to the family!)

So, I was all prepared to happily go nowhere and do nothing over the holidays, until I got a call from my mom asking me when I was coming. I told her I wasn’t. She retorted that I could cook at home. I told her I could cook at my home, too. Then she said I could make something I can’t in my tiny kitchen. I was won over. (Perhaps I’m too easy?)

Because there was a recipe that I’d been dying to try out: boeuf bourguignon a la Julia Child. It really is the centerpiece of the movie Julie & Julia, and most likely the cookbook as well, and my friend and I had wanted to try making it in her happy little Parisian kitchen. But after the burnt brownie incident, wherein her microwave-slash-oven converted brownie batter into a blob of black brick, we decided the machine was really more microwave and not at all oven. Without a functioning oven, the only thing we could make was… boiled lamb. And it wasn’t until we got to the butcher that we realized it was “a l’anglaise.” (Leave it to the British to come up with the most boring way of cooking!) But it was still really good and very memorable – despite the side of irony.

Back to the boeuf bourguignon. I decided it was the perfect dish to try out for Chuseok. And why not make the whole menu sort of French while I was at it? So, I bought a last minute ticket, and sat in a bus creeping along so slowly, I wondered how many inches lay between Seoul and home, all the while inhaling everyone’s continuous kimchi burps (I mean, it’s ok on the way down, but disgusting on the way up. I’d almost prefer it coming out the other end…). It was nearly 3 a.m. when I finally arrived.

I was pleasantly surprised when I got home because my mom had most of the ingredients just sitting in the fridge (well, she was planning on making galbi and samgyeopsal with the meat). But then again, boeuf bourguignon isn’t altogether a fancy dish. And there’s something about French cooking that lets the ingredients themselves, simple as they are, speak...

The very wholesome ingredients for the beef stew (from left to right): bacon bits, beef cuts, Chianti Classico, carrot slices, beef stock, onion slices, mashed garlic / salt & pepper / thyme & bay leaf / tomato paste, shallots, and button mushrooms.

 And many hours (more like a whole day) later, the finished product.

It was phenomenal! It had a delicate, yet hearty flavor, and it was oh so aromatic. (I am now hooked on cooking with wine!) If I were a death row inmate, I would be wanting this for my last meal. I think I could even get fat eating this. Or develop heart disease.

Side dishes included garlic mashed potatoes (also from Julia Child’s book), ginger butter biscuits (from the Pie Bible), asparagus and green salad (not pictured). Food-wise (and maybe even other-wise), best Chuseok ever!

And the finale – the apple tart. Here, the apples are being poached in cinnamon and vanilla sugar water. I wouldn’t mind being poached in that!

 The best crust I’ve ever made. I think I finally have that down pat.

 Apple tart with walnut cream. With sips of mulled wine. Yum yum yum!

The crust was flaky perfection, and the apples were so luscious and big, I could only fit in 4 halves on the tart. The walnut cream was a little too rich though, especially after the belly-bursting meal (the amount of butter that went into everything was absolutely heart-stopping, and was kept secret from its consumers). So I could only eat a small slice. Sniff.

And thus I wound down 2 whole days of non-stop cooking. Toward the end, I barely had time to pee, and was basically yelling instructions at my mom. I remember a similar situation last Christmas when I was screaming at my brother. (I think my mom is better at disregarding the yelling, and my brother the instructions.) Perhaps I’m a little too result-oriented. *Sheepish smile* But I generally get good results. Is it because of the blind drive and touch of meanness? Can it be done without? I don’t think I’ll ever find out…