This Thursday, I'm thirsty for chocolate. Pie, to be specific.
That's code for "this isn't a drink recipe." |
Cake is the accepted standard American birthday
dessert of choice. But, as food blogging is increasingly drawing to my
attention, I was a petulant, picky child. First I vehemently disliked frosting,
then, in a vividly-remembered episode of cake-eating at my paternal
grandparents’ house, I discovered that frosting is actually delicious and gave
up cake eating in favor of its less healthy topping. Or maybe it was the other
way around and I abandoned frosting-eating for cake, all I’m really sure of is
that frosted cake in its entirety is something I have long viewed askance.
At some
point my mother became aware of this, so she took to making me pie for my
birthday, since pie is the pinnacle of man’s culinary achievements. (As pastry
goes, it’s all downhill from there, “there” being sweet filling cradled in flaky,
buttery, salty-sweet crust).
When my
grandparents moved from New York to just a few miles away, my Grammy relieved
my mom of birthday dessert duty, making ice cream cake for I think every single
one of my birthdays for about five years. The highlight of said cakes is
probably the packed layer of Oreo crust; but I’m not going to get into that
right now. This post is about pie. Chocolate pie.
Given my
love of pie, I was interested in being initiated into the art of pie-making almost
as soon as I began cooking, and one of my earliest kitchen endeavors was this
chocolate pie. It was also one of my most recent culinary adventures, as I made
it for my birthday in August (“my birthday” now being more of an excuse to
indulge in a lot of sweets than anything else).
I first saw
the recipe in one of my mom’s Taste of Home magazines. Apparently, it dates
from the Great Depression, popular at that time due to its lack of eggs or
milk. The ingredients list is about as basic as a blond chick in Uggs: the
taste is not. I took the liberty of updating it with a little bit of my trusty
coconut whip, and strongly suggest you do too: the light, coconutty flavor is
an amazing complement to the rich chocolate flavor of the filling.
And, if you’re not feeling crust, or carbs, or gluten; the filling alone served as a chilled pudding is perfectly acceptable. Speaking of, I’m not including a crust recipe: the one I use is an oft-debated family recipe that has caused centuries of drama; yielding tender, flaky results to some family members and brittle bitterness to others, with seemingly no science or predictability. The crust, I’m afraid, is about as predictable and moral as Scarlett O'Hara, and I’d rather not perpetuate and extend the cross-generational cycle of frustration and bitterness and yearning it seems to bring. In short, it's basically the One Ring of recipes. Best of luck on your own crust journey (which, if you’re smart, may just be a quick jaunt down the grocery aisle), and enjoy your pie.
Did I make two nerdy book references in the above paragraph? Ew. |
Classic Chocolate Pie
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup dark cocoa
¼ cup flour (I frequently use whole-wheat with fine
results)
Dash salt
2 ¼ c water
1 tsp vanilla
Pie crust
Whisk sugar, flour, and salt in a pot, slowly add
water. Cook, stirring, over medium heat until mixture comes to a boil; continue
stirring for one minute until thickened. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla,
pour into pie crust and chill 2-3 hours. You should probably add whip and
sprinkles.
You nailed the crust debate. Nailed. It.
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