The voices in my head began to fight the second I awoke today.
Voice 1: What time can I drive home today? Do I need gas?
Voice 2: You are home. You drove here yesterday.
V1: Oh, yeah! Then I’ll take the whole day off from electronics and make a pie.
V2: You have to edit that exam. You can’t make a pie until you blog that last one.
V1: Right. Coffee, then.
I tossed off the covers, made coffee, drank the first cup in silence while I watched the sunrise. Then, I got to work. I am exceptionally coordinated, so I will blog Pie 16.0 while I make Pie 17.0. Let’s see how this goes.
Pie 16.0 was assembled in the other kitchen in the dark again. A friend suggested I simply install lightbulbs in the ceiling light, but that’s not what I mean by dark. I usually make my pies in the morning as the sun comes in the kitchen windows–with no lights turned on. And even with lightbulbs, I use lamps instead of the overhead lights. I like soft light when the sun is gone. It’s necessary and soothing. But not so great for taking pictures of pies. So, to clarify, by dark I mean at night.
In the SUGAR BUTTER FLOUR cookbook, this pie is called “Jumping Without a Net Bottomless Strawberry Rhubarb Cups.” The recipe reveals a design made when the baker was clean outta flour–hence the no-crust. Well, I had graham crackers and seriously considered making a crunchy bottom in each cup. Voice 2 chimed in: don’t bother. I found out from my tasters the next day that a crunchy bottom was exactly what this recipe needed. Next time, I’ll listen to Voice 1.
There’s not much to tell; it was a really easy bake. The first step was to make the fruit filling and all the pictures are of the pan. First the fruit cooked down. Then other mystery ingredients were added. The hardest part was draining the syrupy juice from the cooked fruit because it clung to the pan as it drained out and landed on the counter three inches from the target collection jar. I blamed intermolecular forces, and skillfully overcompensated and missed the jar a different way.
Here is a series of pictures of the pan as the filling progressed.
While the little cups cooled, I boiled down the reserved fruit juice to a syrup.
I separated a lot of eggs and whipped up the meringue. This is my favorite part. I love whipping egg whites to stiff peaks.
I spooned a hefty dollop of white fluff onto each cooled cup and there was a whole bowl of extra meringue. I ate some. (Voice 2: Actually, you ate a lot.)
[Excuse me. I must attend to the next step of Pie 17.0.]
I’m back. The little cups were adorable in the oven.
And they came out lovely in the end, despite not having a crunchy bottom layer.
Of course, I didn’t eat any of Pie 16.0 because, you know, rhubarb.
(Reveal: Pie 17.0 (only about 1 hour of prep time!), is my second savory pie. I know. I told you I’d avoid these based on the yucky Jerk Chicken fiasco of the summer. Yet, here I am. Trying again. She’s in the oven and the place smells delicious. Stay tuned for pictures.)