The trials and tribulations of making peach pie, with some of the tips I learned along the way.
This summer, I had the bad habit of volunteering—no, insisting—on making a too-complicated dessert whenever we were having friends over to grill.
2. The second time, I didn't do as well. I set out to make a slab pie with a rye crust, but I could tell my crumbly, crumbly dough was doomed from the start. I took a lot of precautions—I even rolled my little Ikea kitchen counter over to the A.C. on the other side of the apartment (okay, 10 feet away)—to keep the dough cool. I floured the Prosecco bottle-cum-rolling pin very well.
But alas, my too-cold, too-dry dough shattered into a million pieces and I ended up pressing it into the hacked "pie pan" (I learned the handy tin-foil tip from Amanda Hesser). Weaving a lattice at that point was a comical conceit, so I made a totally intentional windowpane design (actually, my boyfriend did that as I hyperventilated in the corner). At the end of the day, the pie was delicious—and by some miracle, the crust was flaky—but not worth the anxiety.
3. The third time, I made monkey bread. For the Fourth of July. That didn't make sense. There are no pictures of that.
4. The fourth time, I tried my hand at peach pie again. This time, I went for an all-butter pie crust using good old all-purpose flour from The Four & Twenty cookbook. Scarred from my last experience, I used frozen butter and kept the liquid chilling in the refrigerator until the very second I was supposed to add it to the butter and flour mixture.
I let the dough, which came together like magic, chill in the refrigerator while I freaked out about the pie filling and topping. How should I top the pie? Should I try to redeem the lost lattice?
Luckily, my very decisive roommate set her heart on a crumble top, and I found this recipe on Epicurious for deep-dish peach pie with pecan streusel. But then, the filling: Since I wasn't making a deep-dish pie, I needed to choose another recipe for that part. I put my faith in Deb Perelman and looked to her 2012 no-frills version. At this point, I was using three different recipes: one for the crust, one for the filling, and another for the topping.
Next stop on the anxiety train: par-baking. I just couldn't decide whether to do it (I even tweeted out a call for help—that's desperation!). I was having day-mares of a soggy crust, but I had no pie weights or expendable dry beans. All I had was popcorn. Would that be a worthwhile sacrifice? It was recommended in none of the 3 recipes I was using, so I was my on my own with this one.
I read up on all the par-baking literature and spiraled into a dark hole of soggy pie self-help. Here's what I learned:
I decided, for extra protection, to incorporate practically all of these tips:
Good news: It wasn't! I let the pie cool for 3 hours while we zizzed and zazzed and zoodled all of the other food for the party. When we cut into the pie the crust was crispy and flaky. Ah, sweet relief. But would anyone have cared, or even noticed, had the crust been slightly soggy, the filling a little too runny?
There were no leftovers by which to judge next-day sogginess.
Do you put this much thought into baking for guests? Please reassure me in the comments below.