Vegan Blueberry Pie

Food?

Yesterday I woke up two hours earlier than usual to make a pie for that night's Oscar party. Wearing my kimono and listening to my Tea for Two playlist, I first fed my hungry, hungry hippos and then set about baking. The majority of the people I work with are vegan, which I think goes with the territory when you work in animal welfare, so it set up a new challenge for me. But pies are really vegan-friendly, as the only non-vegan ingredient in my recipe is butter. My coworker Sydney told me about the butter substitute Earth Balance, so it was easy. 

In my cookbook, blueberry cobber is listed as a tweak to the blackberry pie recipe, which led me to wonder what the difference between a pie and a cobbler is. Judging by the internetz, the difference between a pie and a cobbler is:
...
no one knows, and everyone makes up his or her own answer. I feel that one day, you know, I'll just stumble across the answer. For right now I'll say I made a vegan blueberry pie with what Good Housekeeping calls a cobbler crust. It was a pie bottom with a square in the center.

As recommended by Patrick, I knocked twenty degrees off the oven temp, and as recommended by my mother and my cookbook, I covered the edge with aluminum foil. Between those two and the butter substitute, my crust turned out a lovely golden-brown instead of crispy-charcoal. And of course this is the one pie I didn't get a picture of, but luckily Kate, my inspiration for this project, did. You can see it on her blog:

http://steadfastandyearning.blogspot.com/

It's part of her entry for today. Looking at it, I think that when I can make a decorative edge I will feel more satisfied about my crusts.

After I decided on making a pie for the party, I overheard two people at work talking about how they don't eat gluten, so I was pretty sure no one would eat my pie. But they did! I loved sharing something I've done with them. We laughed a lot, and I was surprised at how interested in the awards ceremony I was, especially considering I hadn't seen any of the movies. It's a weird sort of thing, when you see all these faces you recognize from movies and magazines and you feel like you know them, like they are a part of your life.

But the people who are in my life made the night truly great. I can't coherently write about the party, but I loved:

Coming into the kitchen and seeing Elise ready to go in her big trench coat, pink scarf, and my beret, finishing her martini.

Kate talking about her dream pie shop.

Looking at the back of Kady's head as she delivered her relentless snarky commentary. She makes me laugh.

Susanna in her primary colors, her "We Sing in Sillyville" outfit, standing in the doorway asking: "Beer?" Yes, please. She joked that she dressed for Pharrell's "Happy" performance.

Ollie stepping out to play the guitar and sing softly, beautifully.

Looking through Sydney's childhood photo albums.

Talking to Jenny about Animal Care and Control. She has so much passion. They all do. It's inspiring.

It was fun to see the faces on the screen, but I'm really enjoying getting to know the faces around me.

First Slice

I'm putting off my pie-baking until Sunday, because we're having an Oscar party for work and I'm going to make a vegan blueberry cobbler. The blueberries are like turkey after Thanksgiving; I have to figure out ways to use all my leftovers. I've been having blueberry yogurt smoothies for breakfast, and last night I made blueberry muffins, and I know I'll still have enough for Sunday's pie.

I feel like this.

Yesterday, on my way to the grocery store I stopped by a little cafe I love called First Slice. It's a cafe with a mission to make homemade meals for the homeless and needy. I had a slice of their cherry pie and a cup of coffee, black. It felt good to be inside, looking out. The sun's been shining but it remains so cold. The pie was tart and tasty, but I didn't feel down on my pies like I expected. I like the idea of putting pies to good use, like First Slice.

I'm going to write about the vegan pie when I've made it and shared it.

The right soundtrack

Music is an integral part to baking and cleaning. Put the right mix on, and you can forgot about the fact you don't have health insurance yet, or the possibility that the next rent check might overdraw your account. Listening to a hopeful, yearning song like "Skylark" makes you almost forget the nauseating pain of your recent break up.

Music takes you to another realm, where you can safely pretend that your life is always this: baking pies, washing up after yourself, taking a break to play with the cats. Rolling the dough. The hot, soapy water. The snow melting down the window. The fragments of conversations, poetry, and dreams that jumble through your mind as you wait for the timer to ring. And then you'll have a friend or two over and talk about whatever, while the music sets the mood. Playing Hildegard Knef, you can pretend your hair is always washed, your bathroom clean, and your dishes matching. You can pretend that you are happy, content with life, and proud of what you've accomplished. But in the midst of this make-believe, you realize this isn't all fake; this is who you are and this is what you wanted. This is your life. These moments. You are connected.

Is this what Virginia Woolf meant when she talked about the party mindset in Mrs. Dalloway? Things aren't real in some ways, much more real in others. Reality and unreality merging over a slice of pie, a cup of tea. Our pretend selves/our actual selves.

All that being said (nice and good and sweet as it is), my actual self drank himself to sleep last night and woke up at noon, despite his cat's best efforts to start the day at nine. I then promptly went down the Lana Del Rey rabbit hole, which led me to discover you can make a pie in the time it takes to listen to one of her albums! I had woken up with two and a half hours to make a pie, get ready, take care of the cats, and get out the door in time for afternoon tea at the Langham, which meant that today's baking was matter-of-fact, unpoetic. I was making a pie because I said I would do one a week.

Looking through my Good Housekeeping cookbook this week, I stopped on blackberry pie. It sounded perfect. The cherry pie was delicious and gone the day after it was made (split between three people), and we were all craving it. I decided to stick with fruit pie, and work on the crust. I'm not sure what happened between choosing the pie and grocery shopping, because I ended up with more than twice the amount of blueberries than blackberries I should have bought. It took me until today on my way downtown to realize my mistake.

I rushed out of the house and to the red line, conscious that I couldn't remember where we were meeting, but fairly confident I'd just figure it out when I got there. I was almost off the train before I looked at the time and realized I was an hour ahead of schedule. It took me another hour to realize there hadn't been a time change, I was just confused.

But the sky! My goodness, the buildings were cloaked in fog, nearly invisible. And then the release of the rain.

When I got home I took a picture of the pie. Every time I set it down bits of charcoal-like crust fell off. I need to remember to knock off fifteen to twenty degrees next time, and cover the pie with foil partway through baking.

It's a mess, but hopefully a delicious, unexpected mess.