Easy as Pie

“Easy as Pie” is a saying I’ve always attributed to meaning easy peasy or a cinch. Ironically, making a great pie isn’t really that easy. Unless of course your idea of good pastry crust is made from the frozen crap that’s found in your supermarket's local freezer section. If so, then yes, “easy as pie” makes complete sense. However, I think the phrase is referring to how easy it is to eat…now that’s something I can effortlessly understand.

The truth is - making a pastry crust that’s not too dry and getting the fruit so that both tart and sweet harmonize together, is both an art and science. Even more daunting than trying to be a culinary chemist however, was that I was making my mother’s pie recipe. I’ve made many a pie in my day and they’ve typically turned out quite well (key lime and coconut being the best). However, the only time I’d ever made my mother’s pie recipe when I was in close proximity to the recipe owner. It just never dawned on me to make her pie away from her kitchen. The psychologist in me could probably psycho-analyse this for a good while yet - but let's cut to the chase...

When referring to a pie here in the UK, typical thoughts centre on savory dishes. To my fellow Yanks – just imagine every time you ordered pie you were served Chicken Pot Pie, or something similar. On a few different occasions when I mentioned to some British friends that I was making a pie, the conversations all unfolded in the same exact manner:

Dana: "I’m making a pie."

British friends: "What kind of pie?"

Dana: "Strawberry rhubarb."

British friends: "Oh, you mean you are making a crumble?"

Dana: "No, I’m making a pie."

British friends: (With look of confusion on their faces) "I don’t get it."

Dana: Ever see the movie American Pie? Watch reruns of Bev Hills 90210 when they went to the Peach Pit? That kind of pie.

My pie baking, balcony doors open, and late summer breeze combined together to create the most wonderful smell which wafted beyond the borders of my flat. As it baked, I sat on my balcony doing a bit of work when I surprisingly heard a “Hey, you. You with the laptop! I’ve no idea what you are cooking but it smells amazing!”

Wow - I was surprised by that, and I seriously had no idea how it was going to turn out but it really did smell great. I was like the PIE-d Piper of Buckler Court luring my neighbors in with my baking scent. So much so that I think I've discovered a new money making scheme and hit for the women's fragrance industry. Eau de strawberry rhubarb pie - "one sniff and you'll have them eating out of your hands."

Interesting thought....

It could work. Really it could.

I'll keep you posted.

Pie Crust:
- 1 cup vegetable shortening (some people smuggle luxury goods in their luggage, Dana smuggles Crisco vegetable shortening from the States)
- 1/3 cup boiling water
- 2 cups (about) flour
- 1 tbsp orange juice
- pinch of salt

1. Whisk shortening and boiling water together until it has the consistency of loose whipped cream (may need a bit more water)
2. Add flour and orange juice until mixed thoroughly
3. Chill dough for a few hours and then role between two pieces of parchment paper

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie:
4-6 stalks of rhubarb cut up
1/4 cup orange juice
1 tbsp orange peel
Tapioca to thicken (I couldn't find tapioca in the markets here so used 1/4 cup of corn flour instead and it worked fine)
2 pints strawberries, washed and cut in half.

1. Cook rhubarb with everything but strawberries for about 15 minutes or until rhubarb is tender and has thickened
2. Mix with strawberries
3. Role out half of dough and place fruit inside
4. Cover with remaining dough and sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar (you can do the fandangled lattice top like in the photo, but you could just ongepotchket it together and slap it on top in one piece)

5. Bake for 45 minutes at 175 C or 350 F.