More than almost any other dessert, pie for me has stood for what is good and nurturing about American life. If an array of sweets is offered, at a potluck for example, I’m apt to head for the pie. Sometimes I am disappointed, but seeing a pie, or group of pies, on a table always makes me feel optimistic.
When I ask people what their favorite dessert is, most, particularly those over forty, answer “Pie.” This is usually followed by a wistful story about meals at home, followed by a lament about their own lack of pie-making talent and the fact that they haven’t had a really good pie in years. Unfortunately, the simple skills for making pies with wonderful taste and texture seem to have been almost lost and are all too often associated with an elderly grandmother, aunt, or neighbor from the past.
In perusing much of what has been written about pies in the last decade or so, I’m struck by how often pie baking is transformed into something quite time-consuming, even intimidating. What was once an elementary technique, learned in home economics or by watching someone in the kitchen, has been made frightening. I know many good cooks who are comfortable tackling duck confit, or veal Orloff, yet feel completely inept when faced with the few simple ingredients that go into a pie crust. The same view pertains to the blending of a basic salad dressing, judging from the supermarket shelf space given to bottled dressings. While pie crust and dressing might not seem related, they are similar in that, with the right balance and handling of three or four modest ingredients, you will have success, with results that taste better than anything you can buy, for a fraction of the price.
I imagine the first person to say that something was “easy as pie” did it for a reason, and I suspect he or she didn’t find pie baking as daunting as it is perceived to be today. In this book, I will try to unlock, or to explain, what it is that gives pies a difficult reputation, and then remove the fear with clear information for success. This is the kind of advice you would get from having a patient, knowledgeable friend look over your shoulder.
To beginning bakers I say, forget what scares you about making pies, and start fresh. Just forge ahead and remember that a good pie doesn’t have to be cosmetically perfect—that’s part of the charm and appeal of home baking. Instant success might be rare, but it is also rare in making pancakes or muffins, or in public speaking, or in learning how to ride a bicycle or drive a car. It’s practice that helps you develop a natural feel for anything.
A good pie is a triumph, based on a crisp and flaky crust and a tender filling that has just enough texture to hold together when cut. While a batch of cookies might stay fresh and crisp for several days, most pies do not keep well, and are best fresh. A short shelf life can be a pie’s downfall. That’s why pies turned out in the automated world, where they are built to last, are so often disappointing.
One of the best bakers I know, Marion Cunningham, recalls her early pie-making days in the 1940s, when she was learning to cook and bake by asking neighbors what they cooked: “If the pies weren’t good, we didn’t know it. We didn’t think like that then. We didn’t dissect things then, nobody’s palate was jaded, nor was anyone a critic. I’ve always felt, you can eat it even if it doesn’t turn out; it’s always worth tasting.”
I can’t think of any sounder, more assuring words. So don’t agonize over your pies, and don’t be afraid of them. Pie baking is generally forgiving, and you don’t need to have the precision of a chemist to be good at it.