On this night I made an apple custard pie, thus completing the first page of pies in my Good Housekeeping Cookbook, also marking my return to pies, which I had given up during the heat of the summer, and while making this pie Howard started putting together our dresser. It was a picture of domestic bliss. As Wendy Cope says in her poem "The Orange:" "This is peace and contentment. It's new."
For a period there I felt like I was churning out the apple pies, and needed a break. It's been long enough that an apple pie started sounding appetizing again.
It is headed full-tilt into autumn in Chicago, which makes Howard gleeful. I enjoy the chill and the change in dress. Fall is my favorite season, and my mind is itching to quote one of my favorite poets, Rachel Wetzsteon, who shares my feeling, but of course when I look through my books I can't find the particular poem that tickles the back of my mind.
Fall is also, of course, the season of the salted caramel mocha, which is cause for celebration enough. I'd like to make a salted caramel pie of some kind. Any suggestions?
The pie crust went well tonight, after the first attempt, at least. I rolled it out between sheets of plastic wrap, but forgot to dust them with flour, so the dough stuck and I had to start over. The second time was much easier. I had chilled the dough and liberally sprinkled flour, so I was able to transfer it to the pie plate easily enough. I dented the crust with a fork and used a fluted pastry wheel to trim the edges.
I placed the thin slices of apples--which had been coated in flour, sugar, cinnamon, and a touch of salt--in concentric circles in the pie crust and poured the custard (with a dash of nutmeg!) over it. It baked for 45 minutes covered with foil, and is in the oven now for another thirty, then it has to be cooled and finally, refrigerated. We were hoping to have some tonight with vanilla ice cream, but that is looking unlikely. Or at least, it will be around midnight before we get to it. Midnight pie!
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