This is turning into an expensive and demoralizing process. Feeling called to the kitchen and with Anfin home to interact with the girls, I started an apple pie. But the crust. The gosh darn crust continues to be a disaster. I think I misidentified my crust downfall. The dough never comes together for me, even until the maximum point of water a recipe suggests one could possibly need. Yet even though it doesn’t come together it still is gummy. Ick. The internet gurus attribute the texture issue to too much water, too little flour, or too much blending. WHAT THE HECK. Seeing as I am using a kitchen scale for precise and accurate measurements, I’ve ordered a pastry blender.
If you’re keeping count, for one measly pie I’m trying to make wonderful for Thanksgiving I’ve now invested in: a new rolling pin, fancy syrup for the pie itself, a pie rolling mat to help make it not stick to the counter, and a pastry blender. As if pecans themselves weren’t pricey this pie currently costs $60. Oh dear me, what have I done? This might be my most ridiculous move yet. Who says yes to making a pie when they’re terrible at making pie crust? Particularly when coupled with indulgent pride over baking abilities and desperate desire to make something nice for Thanksgiving. Two thumbs on me.
As I’m about ready to chuck the unformed, gummy mess across the kitchen, though let’s be real, the crumbles were already all over, Anfin suggests, “Hm, I’ve never had a problem with pie dough.” After my raised eyebrows and evil glare he obliviously and kindly suggests, “Maybe we should make it together sometime.”
Now I’m off to buy more butter.
P.S. Don’t worry Dad and Ann, I will continue to persevere. I’ve been asked to contribute two pies for a church dinner next week, so there’s more practice ahead. Worst case, I’m making the darn pie without the crust. Also, I make Meg’s delightful chocolate pecan bar recipe to great success–a shortbread crust rarely fails. So there are options.