Economical Raisin Pie: Exactly what it sounds like

I know we all love economizing and raisins.

Economical Raisin Pie 2 cups (13 oz) raisins 2 cups water ½ cup brown sugar 2 tablespoons cornstarch 1 teaspoon cinnamon ⅛ teaspoon salt   1 tablespoon butter 1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell, plus pastry for a top crust Bring raisins and 1¾ of water to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Meanwhile, combine the brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and salt. Then mix the remaining ¼ cup of water to the sugar. Add sugar to raisins, stirring constantly until mixture boils again and thickens. Remove from heat and add the butter, stirring until it melts and mixes in. Allow to cool completely. You can either let the pot sit out for a while, or you can speed this up by setting it in a larger pot full of cold water (iced if you have an ice maker) and stirring until it reaches room temperature. When it has cooled, stir in the vinegar. When ready to bake, heat oven to 425°. If desired, brush the pie shell with cooking oil or thoroughly coat it with cooking spray. (Not necessary, but it helps keep it crisp while baking.) Pour and spread the (cooled!) filling into the pie shell. Brush or finger-paint the edge of the bottom crust with water, then lay the top crust over it. Gently press the two crusts together, then cut vents in the top. Bake for 25 minutes. Source: Sun-Maid raisin package, probably 1930s-1940s Notebook of Hannah D. O'Neil (née Hanora Frances Dannehy)

I tried to date this by searching for "economical raisin pie." I found a few people who have uploaded images of this same box label, which means that this recipe made it into a few kitchens besides my great-grandmother's instead of simply getting thrown out when the package was empty. 

I also found a different economical raisin pie in an Australian newspaper. I only note this because it was printed directly above something called "bloater paste." Here is the recipe if anyone wants to make it:

The Southern Districts Advocate; Katanning, Western Australia; May 30, 1932; page 1 

All right, so the name "bloater paste" doesn't exactly sell the dish. But before we mock recipes of yore, let's remember that refrigeration had to become very cheap before you could get fresh fish without catching it yourself.

Fish paste aside, I'm going to guess that our pie from the Depression because they put "Economical" right in the recipe title. Also, the illustration looks similar to a lot of 1930s cookbooks and food ads. As a smaller detail that might help with dates, the recipe says to cook it in "a hot oven" and gives the actual temperature as a parenthetical afterthought. From what I've read, recipes had mostly switched to giving the temperature without any description like "slow/moderate/hot oven" by the 1950s (though as with all things, it was a slow change). So this is probably from no later than the 40s.

Setting aside the recipe's age, you know it is economical because it starts off with raisins and water. If this pie is good, I might try replacing some of the water with rum.

As I got further into the recipe, I thought of those proverbial people who give out "healthy" raisin boxes on Halloween. I've heard a lot of sniping about them, but I've never known anyone who actually got Halloween raisins in real life. But in case anyone out there is thinking of making a valiant crusade of fruit against candy, raisins are mostly sugar anyway. (Although if you're looking for a way to economize on groceries, those trick-or-treat raisins might get you some free eggs if you scrape them off your door fast enough!)

On another economical note, this pie doesn't use much sugar. The raisins make up for it.

After five minutes of bubbling on the stove, our raisins looked singularly unappetizing. I haven't seen dried fruit look this bad since the prune whip.

Things looked a little better after adding the cornstarch and cooling this off. The raisins at least passed for a semidecent compote.

Finishing off the ingredient list, I think the vinegar is an economical substitute for lemon juice. We've seen this elsewhere in cookbooks. People who couldn't afford lemons used to make vinegar pie.

At this point, I decided to diverge from the recipe and make the Eccles cakes from the same Delia Smith video that taught me to make sausage rolls. Those little dried currant tarts she made looked better every time I rewatched. (Also, making individual pies allowed me to economically cut our raisin usage in half.)

These felt like the time I made runzas. (Or more correctly, the time I made something runza-adjacent with whatever happened to be in the fridge at the time.) You pinch the corners together, then squeeze the whole thing shut, put it seam-side down on the pan, and hope your raisins don't leak. Of course, mine looked inept and misaligned after pressing them shut, but you bake these seam-side down anyway.

As an exciting bonus, I set aside a small bit of the dough and worked in some cheese. This is because in the comments for our sausage rolls, Freezy suggested we try making a sour cherry turnover in a cheesy crust. I couldn't find any sour cherry preserves in the store, so I mixed a little splash of lemon juice into some cherry-blueberry fruit spread. 

Delia has us brush these with a beaten egg white and then sprinkle with granulated sugar, but I didn't want that gritty top today. Instead, I decided to make like Fanny Cradock and sift powdered sugar on them instead. Seriously, watch her Christmas mincemeat show and (don't!) take a shot every time she snows the food with "sifted icing sugar."

Our little sorta-Eccles cakes (I think they have to contain currants to be truly Eccles-iastical) puffed up adorably in the oven. More importantly, they didn't fall apart. The cherry-cheese tart got a little oozy, but at least the preserves came out through the vent-slits instead of leaking from elsewhere.

The cherry-cheese turnover was delicious. This is no surprise- we all know fruit and cheese go together like peanut butter and pickles. I might (prices permitting) make this again with dried cherries which would hopefully not be quite so drippy.

Getting back to our featured recipe, our raisins were better than I thought. But, this tasted like raisins and nothing else. It reminded me of the sugar-coated raisins in Raisin Bran. If you used to eat the raisins out of that and put the flakes back in the cereal box, you might like this a lot. 

I think this recipe works better as little turnovers than a big pie. But I can see how a full-size raisin pie would hit different in an era before cheap(ish) out-of-season fruit.