Tilting at windmills

Three weeks ago, over Columbus Day weekend, my 61-year-old father biked the 185 miles of the C&O canal towpath in three days. With an incompletely healed cracked rib. His riding buddy, my “Uncle Phil,” bellowed the most charmingly accurate assessment of the situation as they left early Saturday morning: “Don Quixote and Sancho Panza!” 

But Dad survived! Not that I doubted he would, because my father is one of the most stubborn cusses ever to live—but all the same, I was extremely proud of my Papi. Such accomplishments call for celebration—and what other way is there to celebrate than with decadent desserts? Specifically, banana chocolate cream pie.

I’d been promising to make my father some kind of All-American pie for at least a year now, but making my father a pie was…a daunting prospect, to say the least. Sort of like my own personal windmill, to keep with the quixotic theme.

 That isn’t to say that he’s a hypercritical audience. In fact, you could say he’s the biggest proponent and supporter of my kitchen activity. (He’s also among my biggest fans—sharing that title with my mother—outside the kitchen as well.)

I bet Grandma's old pastry cutter carries
her perfect-pie-crust spirit.

But my father is particular about his pie crusts. His mother was a Home-Ec major at Michigan State University, and was an amazing seamstress and incredible cook, particularly of all things Americana. Like pie. So he’s got standards about pie, my father. Standards I came to know about not through family discussions of my grandmother’s pie, so much as through a Thanksgiving ritual known as “Dad makes the crust for the apple and pumpkin pies.”

While this annual ritual obviously begins with the making of the dough, the real show doesn’t begin until it’s time to roll the dough out. Then, despite his prodigious flouring of his surface and sheathing of the rolling pin in a special cover, his just-barely-moistened-going-to-be-incredibly-flaky-because-of-it dough begins to rip. And then, almost as though you’d handed him a paintbrush sopping in blue paint, my father, an otherwise proper gentleman, lets loose a string of profanity that could make a sailor’s ears burn. Some bickering/teamwork between Mom and Dad ensues, as they successfully coax the dough into a pie pan, and every year, marvelously flaky pie crusts grace our Thanksgiving table.

But you can understand, given this elaborate ritual, that I might have some anxiety with regard to pie crusts. I spent many years thinking they were a baking feat that only the most staunch of heart and skill could attempt.

This is clearly not true. Pies are among the most rustic of pastries, a way to disguise unattractive cuts of meat, use up fruit on the verge of spoilage, and plain old stretch ingredients. They’re not supposed to be freaking rocket science. Besides, even if your pastry isn’t the flakiest one in the world, who is going to complain about fresh, homemade (I mean completely from scratch), pie? Seriously.

 So I got over my fear of pie. The first pie guinea pig, in that wonderful tradition of couples the world over, was boyfriend. I made a butterscotch banana cream pie, without even the aid of a food processor to help out with the crust, and it came out…ok! After tasting it, boyfriend offered:

“You know the only thing that would make this better? Chocolate.” (In what situation, by the way, is this not the case?)

What he didn’t say was: “Gee, you know, this is ok, but the crust really could have been flakier.”

Emboldened by this success and inspired by his suggestion, I made a pie for boyfriend’s birthday. I found a good chocolate cream pie recipe, and held onto the bananas—a sort of unexpected guest in a chocolate cream pie. And I made whipped cream to go along with the whole thing. And you know what? Nobody said anything except “yum!”

So, with some trepidation, I made the very same pie for my daddy on his return from his epic journey. And you know what he said about the pie? Thank you. So go make some pies!

The dreaded quadruple yolker! 

 Banana Chocolate Cream Pie

Very slightly adapted from Mary Engelbreits’s Sweet Treats

Note: This is a recipe that occurs in parts, most of which need chilling or cooling, so you’ll want to start it EARLY the day you plan to serve it, if not the day before (pie crust won’t take any harm from longer refrigeration, as long as it’s tightly wrapped).

½ recipe Flaky Pie Pastry (see below, or use whatever crust recipe you enjoy)

 Filling:

2 c. milk (WHOLE!)

2/3 c. heavy cream

1 c. sugar

4 large egg yolks

3 tbsp cornstarch

Pinch of salt

8 ounces (good) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 ripe bananas

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a 12 ½ in round. Fit the dough to a 9 in pie plate. Trim the edges of the dough, leaving a ½ inch overhand. Fold the excess dough under itself and crimp the edges (if you’re fancy like that). Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Bake the shell: Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line the pie shell with foil and fill with dried beans or rice. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove the foil and beans and bake the shell for 8-10 minutes longer, until golden brown.* Let the pie shell cool completely on a wire rack.

Make the chocolate filling (it is SO worth making this from scratch). In a large heavy saucepan, combine all but 2 tbsps of the milk with the cream and sugar. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine the egg yolks, cornstarch, salt and the remaining 2 tbsps milk and whisk until smooth.

Whisking constantly, gradually pour about half of the hot milk into the yolk misture. Pour the warmed yolk mixture into the saucepan of hot milk and bring to a very gentle boil over medium-low heat, whisking constantly. Boil, whisking, for 1 minute. Remove from the heat and whisk in the chocolate until it is completely melted. Transfer the filling to a bowl and whisk in the vanilla. Cover with a piece of plastic wrap DIRECTLY touching the surface to prevent a skin from forming and let cool to room temperature.

While pudding is cooling, peel and slice the bananas. Lay the slices on the bottom of the pie crust. Pour the cooled filling over, and smooth with a rubber spatula. Cover loosely and refrigerate for a least 2 hours, until chilled, before serving. Serve mit schlag.

*I had to bake with my pieweights for almost the entire time, because when I took them off, my crust began ballooning. Bottom line, just keep an eye on your crust and make sure it is evenly cooked and mostly flush with the pan.

Flaky Pie Pastry (makes enough for a double crust pie, so you’ll only use half for this pie)

2 2/3 c. all-purpose flour

2 tbsp sugar

½ tsp salt

¾ c. (1 ½ sticks) COLD, unsalted butter, cut into ½ inch pieces

½ c vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces

5-6 tbsp ice water

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, sugar and salt. Using a  pastry blender, two knives, or your fingertips, cut in the butter and shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Drizzle 5 tablespoons ice water over the top, tossing the mixture with a fork until the dough just comes together. If necessary, add up to 1 tablespoon more water. Divide the dough in half and shape each half into a disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or overnight.