Saturday, December 15, 2018

The sacred pumpkin cake roll

Welcome to A Book of Cookrye, where we defiantly carry the nutmeg torch of pumpkin spice against the tsunami of Christmas! Today, we bring you... this!

Bring out the canned pumpkin because here at A Book of Cookrye, autumn doesn't end until Christmas is safely over! Today we have a recipe we made for Thanksgiving, because if Christmas can start in August then Thanksgiving can stomp all over December.

Pumpkin Roll
¾ c flour
2 tsp pumpkin spice
1 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
4 eggs, separated
1 c sugar, divided in half
⅔ c canned pumpkin (be sure you don't use canned pie filling)
1 tbsp lemon juice

Heat oven to 375°. Grease a 10½" x 15½" jelly roll pan. Cut a piece of parchment paper to fit the bottom. Press it down, getting rid of as many air bubbles as you can. Spray the parchment.*
Mix the flour, spices, salt, and baking powder, set aside.
In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks until foamy. Add half the sugar. Beat 3-5 minutes more, until they are very light-colored and look a bit like cake batter. Beat in the pumpkin. Then reduce speed and beat in the flour, just until mixed.
In a separate bowl with clean beaters, beat the egg whites until foamy. Add the lemon juice and beat until you get peaks that don't flop over, but bend just a bit at the point. With the mixer running, gradually add the sugar. Beat until you get soft peaks.
Gently stir a spoonful of the egg whites into the batter. When mixed, gently stir in another. This should soften it enough that you can fold in the remaining egg whites without deflating them. Fold in the egg whites in two or three additions. To prevent overstirring which would deflate the egg whites, wait until you've added the last of them to thoroughly mix in every last lump of white.
Spread into the pan and bake 18-22 minutes. Because this cake is so thin, you really want to spin it 180° halfway through the baking time to make very sure it cooks evenly. It's done when the center springs back when pressed.
While it's baking, clear some counterspace and lay out a piece of parchment big enough to turn the cake out onto. Sprinkle it with graham cracker crumbs, powdered sugar, or flour.
When the cake is done, cut the edges to free it from the pan. Turn it out onto the parchment. Cut off the edges because they're crispy and will want to crack when you bend the cake. Peel off the paper you baked it with. Roll the cake up in the new parchment, using enough pressure to roll it firmly, but not enough to squish it. Leave it to cool completely.

½ c pecans, optional
4 oz white chocolate, melted
8 oz cream cheese
⅓ c caramel topping
2 8-oz tubs whipped topping
¼ tsp salt

Grind the pecans, if using, and set aside to sprinkle on top.
Beat the white chocolate, cream cheese, and topping. Gently stir in the whipped cream. You'll deflate it less if you add it in three or so additions. This softens up the mixture so that by the time you add the last portion of cream, you barely lose any fluffiness.
Gently unroll the cake. Spread the filling onto it, being sure to get all the way to the edges. Gently roll it up, being sure not to squeeze the filling out. Refrigerate until you want to serve it. If you're worried about neatness, slice off the ends after it's gotten cold enough to firm up the filling.

*All this pan preparation may seem like overkill, but this cake really wanted to stick to the pan.
I used 8 oz cream whipped with 2 tbsp powdered sugar instead.
In the original recipe, you put about a third of the icing inside the cake and spread the rest on top after you roll it up. I decided to forget trying to ice this thing and put it all inside the roll. If you're going to do the same, you may consider reducing how much filling you make unless you like a lot of filling in your cake rolls.

Source: Wilton

Incidentally, this website annoyed me so much. The ingredients are on one webpage, and the instructions are on another. You have to keep clicking back and forth as you make your way through the recipe unless you have a printer on hand. And if you do, you'll find yourself using a lot of paper. Even if you're not worried about saving trees, it gets really annoying to have to keep track of so many sheets of paper while you're covered in cake spatters.
But enough about crappy web design. We have a very specific reason for making a pumpkin roll for Thanksgiving. One of my aunts can't bake. This is not sniping at her behind her back, she'll readily say so herself. Anyway, you those school fundraisers where you and your children have to go door to door selling overpriced baked goods and nut trays? Well, one year my aunt ordered a pumpkin roll from a friend's kid and brought it to Thanksgiving. As a joke, she took it out of the supermarket-looking container, put it on one of her own plates, and (this is the extra gourmet touch) sprinkled powdered sugar on it.
Sugar! Spice! And a lot of fat waiting upstream on the countertop!

Actually, hold the story for a minute. THIS IS AN UNSPEAKABLE AMOUNT OF BOWLS. Seriously, we haven't even produced anything that looks like cake batter yet, and look at how many bowls we already have to wash! Have we mentioned that our dishwasher is permanently broken?

Whoever devised this recipe was probably working in a commercial kitchen with an industrial dishwasher that cleans a full load of dishes in 5 minutes or less. Either that or they had a small platoon of underpaid underlings permanently stationed at the sink. This recipe did not come from someone who bakes at home. Or if they do, they have an actual commercial-grade kitchen in their house instead of what the rest of us have.
This is what the empty steel bowl above was for.

All right, back to why we were making this for Thanksgiving. As aforementioned, a few years ago, my aunt who does not bake ordered one from one of those school fundraisers and put it on her own plate like she was trying to pass it off as homemade. Not that she actually wanted to make anyone think she'd suddenly started doing her own cakes. Have you ever been to someone's house for dinner, and they served takeout while joking about how they totally spent forever in the kitchen preparing this feast-- while serving it out of the styrofoam boxes? My aunt was doing that. To everyone's surprise, one of my cousins thought my aunt had baked it herself, and asked her to bring it next year. The rest of us were too amused to undeceive her.

Anyway, this was easy enough for my aunt to do. Those school fundraisers come around every year. My aunt ordered another one the next Thanksgiving. As before, she removed it from its clear plastic shipping container and put it on her own plate. She got out the powdered sugar and sprinkled a little on top, saying "There! Now it's homemade!"
This went on right up until last year, when the last of my aunt's friends' kids graduated from school, bringing an end to the fundraisers. This meant she could not order Thanksgiving pumpkin rolls anymore. Well, she could order them in a sense. Because somehow I got asked to make it this year.

Anyway, I don't know if my cousin ever realized that my aunt never made a single one of the many pumpkin rolls that graced the dessert table over the years. If she did wise up, she never let on.
Maybe she thought it was my aunt's one recipe. You know how a lot of people who can't cook will have one thing they make really well? Like those people who burn a pot of rice and ruin canned biscuits, but somehow make a really damn good cheesecake? Maybe my cousin thought that pumpkin rolls were my aunt's one recipe. Or maybe she figured out the truth a while ago but hasn't said so, lest she risk bringing an end to pumpkin rolls (which she does like a lot, homemade or otherwise).

See that orange splot on top of the batter? That's what makes this a pumpkin roll. I have to note that I was more than slightly annoyed at how very little pumpkin this uses. It meant I had to figure out what to do with the rest of this can.

Anyway, this recipe comes to us from the Wilton website. You may recognize Wilton as the company that manufactures nearly everything on the cake decorating aisle at the craft store. When we first started our cake decorating class, we had to order a huge amount of icing tips and other overpriced little cake doodads. When we went on their website, they offered a discount to anyone who signed up to their newsletter. We've been getting emails from them ever since, each of them filled with projects far too complicated for us and ads for more cake paraphernalia that we refuse to purchase unless forced. Usually we delete them unopened. But literally the day we were asked to make this thing, we got one that proclaimed in the subject line that it had a pumpkin roll recipe and the latest fall cake decorations.
We were going to just use the recipe on the pumpkin can, but this was the well-timed hand of fate blessing us with a recipe that we were truly meant to make! Like, how often does a recipe literally land in your inbox, unsolicited, the day after you find out you're going to need to look for it? Clearly, this recipe would be utterly amazing, as it was the gods themselves who made Wilton put this recipe in this week's mass mailer.

The batter was not as orange as I thought it'd be. Like, I'd thought we'd be using enough pumpkin to make this, well, pumpkin-colored. It's barely tinted! Would this thing taste like pumpkin at all?  We didn't want to serve a pumpkin roll that didn't taste like pumpkin. I mean, it'd be a decent cake roll even if you couldn't detect the pumpkin, but this is supposed to be a pumpkin cake. Which we're serving in the fall, dangit. You just can't have a pumpkin cake that doesn't taste like pumpkin in the fall.

All right, after dirtying nearly every bowl in the kitchen we are almost ready to get this thing in the oven! But wait! We must take out the last remaining bowl and turn the egg whites into shaving cream.

You may have noticed that we had practically no batter in the bowl. Like, that orange pumpkin-spice paste tasted really nice, but it wasn't going to fill a big sheet pan. Well, let's get this bowl of egg foam in there and see what it looks like now!

Quite a bit more of it, isn't there? The the batter no longer seemed like a batter. All that foam made it seem more like pumpkin-spice whipped cream when you ate it.
But finally, at long long long long last, we were ready to get this into the pan. And because we really didn't want to risk this thing sticking, we gave it absolutely no chance to. First we sprayed the pan. Then we cut a piece of parchment paper to fit it, and pressed it down very hard, trying to get out all the air bubbles trapped under it. (This did not work very well, but we did get a few of them out.) Then we sprayed the whole thing again.If this cake was going to stick, it would stick to the paper. And the paper was so greased underneath that it couldn't possibly stick to the pan. I mean, with all the cooking spray both on top of and beneath it, the paper might get deep-fried in the oven. But it would not stick.

The tricky thing with cake rolls is that the batter's always so thin in the pan. Obviously it must be thin or else you can't bend it into a roll. But when your cake's that thin, you can't just dump it in the pan because it'll bake before it has a chance to spread and even out. So you have to get it perfectly even. Or, as close to it as you can before you get frustrated and mutter "close enough."

It's a bit ironic given how aggressive-looking grilling spatulas are sold at men and how most people think cake decorating is for women, but those ten-foot-wide, ten-pounds-heavy grilling spatulas are perfect for spreading the batter perfectly flat.
But enough about the batter. We finally got it in the oven, so all we needed to do was make the filling for this thing. We didn't have any white chocolate waiting forgotten in the pantry, so we had to buy some. Based on its appearance when we unwrapped it, either the shipping crate of white chocolate got left in a hot warehouse, or Frank Gehry is now designing baking chocolate.

Anyway, this part of the recipe is where we really start to see evidence of corporate sponsorship on this recipe. First of all, for whatever reason, they have us using caramel syrup. Now, we at A Book of Cookrye thought about being cheap and just making it ourselves. I mean, you can make a reasonable facsimile of caramel syrup by boiling brown sugar and water. But then we asked ourselves- do we really want to bother with that over such a tiny little amount, when we already have a small Mount Rainier of dishes piling up in the sink? We ended up surrendering and buying a jar of this stuff.

You may notice that this is not store-brand fake caramel syrup. This was not our idea. All the cheap stuff was sold out. Did everyone who came to the store earlier decide to make sundaes for Thanksgiving, or is everyone making this recipe? Why would everyone want to buy all the store-brand caramel syrup in mid-November?
Moving on, the cake looked nice when it came out of the oven.

Now you may think that all that excessive greasing, papering, and re-greasing of the pan was excessive. But despite our using about a quarter of a can of cooking spray, this cake welded itself to the sides of the pan. But that's all right. We didn't think that anything could stick to the pan after we greased it so much, but we prepared for it anyway. We could easily cut the sides out, and the bottom of the cake was glued very firmly to the paper. Which fell right out of the pan. I mean, the cake tried really hard to stick to the paper, but it was a lot easier to separate those two than it would have been to try to slice under the cake while it was still in the pan. Would you like to see how well-greased this pan was upon getting the cake out of it?

 It's always so reassuring when your cake finally falls out of the pan. No matter how much you grease and line everything, there's always a subconscious fear that it will firmly stick to the pan, or fall out in pieces. But this thing? Once we cut the sides free, it fell right out.

I don't know why recipes have you rolling the cake in paper, unrolling it, and rerolling it so many times. Why don't you just put your filling in it the first time and forget all this business of unrolling and rerolling the cake so many times while hoping it doesn't tear open? Fanny Cradock doesn't do this multiple-times rolling business either.We wanted to just put the filling in there the first time and be done with it. But we figured that if we followed the recipe exactly, we could blame Wilton for this if it failed.
Anyway, the edges always come out crispy, so no matter what you do they will crack anyway. We decided to just cut them off ahead of time, which also gave us a chance to taste the cake. After all, if you've never made a recipe before, you want to make sure you didn't make a piece of crap before you let others try it. The cake tasted fan-damn-tastic. We ate absolutely everything that we cut off.

Right, while the cake's rolled up and cooling, let's get to the filling. You don't even have to ask if this came out good. Just look at what was in the bowl before we turned on the mixer.
Cream cheese, melted white chocolate, caramel syrup. Forget the cake and just eat this.

Now, as aforementioned, we had to use a lot of bowls just on the cake. In fact, we ran out of bowls and had to wash and reuse two of them to make the filling. I don't know what this brings our total bowl count up to because I lost track mid-recipe. To be fair, one of the two bowls we got out for the filling was for whipping the cream, which was our own fault. In the original recipe, we'd have just dumped in a tub of Cool Whip. But as much as we like eating Cool Whip straight out of the freezer, we didn't want that weird synthetic taste on this cake we spent all this time and dirtied all these dishes making. Besides, it seems way too much like something out of those corporate cookbooks where they try to force in as many of Our Sponsors' convenience products into the recipes whether said products make the recipes easier or not.

After having a good time with our electric mixer, we had a bowl of what tasted like a super-amped-up version of cheesecake dip. The original recipe has you making a lot of this stuff because you're supposed to both put it inside the cake roll and also use it to ice the outside. But the pumpkin rolls our aunt has ordered from the school fundraiser were not iced on the outside. Also, we were feeling lazy.

Ohboyohboyohboyohboy this is a lot of tasty sugary glop!
You may think this picture came out dark, but that's actually the caramel sauce giving the filling a sort-of tan color.

When we rolled it up, we started to think they told us to save most of the cream cheese for the outside because of huge cake fissures like this.

We worried for this thing's structural integrity. A lot of the cracks were so deep that it didn't seem the cake was holding itself together anymore. After rolling, unrolling, and rerolling, we no longer had a single cake but multiple cake pieces, torn apart and glued together with all that cream cheese paste. But on the other hand, LOOKIT THE TASTY CREAM CHEESINESS OOZING OUT OF THIS THING!

Well, that was the cake roll, finally done. All that remained was the depressingly high mountain of dishes. On the bright side, we had a perfect container for this thing.

Now, there are two ways people do cake rolls, whether they're filled with jelly, mincemeat, peanut butter and jelly, custard, or whatever else. Some people like a thin stripe of filling spiraling through the cake, some people like it to be simply oozing  with stuff. Here's a handy illustration!
Choose the cake-to-stuffing ratio that speaks to your heart (or clogs it).

Now, the filling for this thing tastes a lot like cheesecake. Also, we made a lot of it. When you sliced at this thing, it looked more like a thin stripe of cake in the middle of a massive amount of cream cheese.
Incidentally, this one little slice was all that was left.

Since this thing was near-solid cream cheese, it tasted like a cheesecake with the crust swirled into it. Which was fan-damn-tastic. But if we were going to get really picky, we might point out that the cream cheese kind of overwhelmed the pumpkin cake. This irked us because we spent a long time making said cake, and it was really good.
A lot of jelly roll recipes produce a really bland cake because in theory you will deliberately drown out the cake flavor with whatever you put in it. But this was a really delicious pumpkin cake, and while the cream cheese stuffing was delicious, the cake was way too tasty for us to want to smother it under cream cheese. You know this cakes's good when you say that the cream cheese was not the best part.
On the other hand, there were a lot of desserts and yet this pumpkin roll was all but demolished. We're keeping this recipe.

Thursday, December 13, 2018

Dead Bread! or A Book of Cookrye cooks along to someone else's recipes

Christmas is definitely impending, which makes us at A Book of Cookrye think of dying. Which brings us to making corpse chow! Or at least, pan de muerto (literally translated "bread of the dead"), traditional to Mexico's Day of the Dead.

Pan de Muerto

Normally, we run the recipe here. But since this is right off of someone else's blog instead of our usual source which is long-out-of-print books, we will instead put a link to the recipe we used here!

Actually, we made this by request for Thanksgiving at a friend's house (well, a friend's brother's girlfriend's family's house- I'm not sure how that happened either).  But as Christmas rolls mercilessly on, we at A Book of Cookrye would love to keep the spirit of autumn in our hearts and recipes.
Yes, we had to get a kitchen scale because half the recipes we practice for cooking school only give weights. It's come in handy a few times, but I am still more than slightly annoyed that we had to devote cabinet space to it.

I have vague memories of Our Mom of Cookrye attempting to make this early in our childhood, and furthermore of it not coming out very well. Let me immediately add that Our Mom of Cookrye is a very good cook, and that it's hard to make any yeast bread from scratch when you're also trying to keep multiple children under the age of 10 from breaking the house while you're kneading. So we're not using one isolated instance of recipe disappointment to claim that Our Mom of Cookrye couldn't bake. Quite to the opposite, this distant and foggy memory of a recipe defeating Our Mom of Cookrye of all people made us hesitant to try it ourselves.
There. We got the weight exactly right.

We had another two closely related reasons to suspect that today's culinary perpetration would end badly. First, we're making it for strangers.Second, we're just picking a recipe off of someone else's blog and making it for the first time. As nearly everyone knows, making recipes you've never done before, for people you've never cooked for, automatically invites failure. If you make a test batch of a recipe in the privacy of your own home, it will almost always turn out perfect. But if you make a recipe for other people without privately testing it first, even though it's the exact same recipe that would have been exquisite had you tried it out beforehand, it will come out utterly terrible.
Even if it's a recipe you know and really love, cooking for others is always risky.  For example, we once decided to make these rolls for a friend when we were out visiting. The recipe has unfailingly turned out absolutely perfect every time we make it at home (see below), and is now one of our most-often bread choices.

But, because we had people watching (indeed, we were in someone else's house), the dough wads refused to even slightly expand. After not rising at all, they baked into sad rocks. You may think that we used dead yeast, but we bought it that morning and put it in a glass of warm water to make sure it generated foam before adding it.
This is after they spent THREE HOURS rising!

 To counter our misgivings, we made many attempts to reassure ourselves. It's bread, we told ourselves. We've done bread before! In fact, it looks like only the heavy amount of orange zest in the dough makes this recipe different from dinner rolls like this or this.  Surely this recipe would present no problem whatsoever.

Incidentally, this recipe really uses a lot of orange zest. We at A Book of Cookrye have often used the trick we read a while ago of rubbing orange/lemon/whatever zest into the sugar to release the oils and get a much stronger flavor out of it. This recipe uses so much zest that it turned the sugar into an orange-flavored paste. Which, by the way, tasted amazing.

Really, grating the orange zest was the only tedious part of this recipe. It took us like fifteen minutes with a grater before we had enough. From here forward, the recipe looked like most yeast bread recipes- with one teeny exception...

All right, I know the recipe calls for orange flower water, but we at A Book of Cookrye already had rose water which we've been dumping into tea and odd recipes for a while now. Besides, the dough has so much orange in it it looks like we added in one big egg yolk. It doesn't need any more orange. Making it taste like oranges and roses would add intoxicating variety to the flavor.... in theory.
You may think that's an egg yolk, but it's actually sugar.

Bashing the stuff in the bowl together yielded a substance that looked like it had a lot of artificial coloring.

Upon getting all the four into the dough, it seemed pathetically dry and crumbly. Was there an ingredient we forgot? I mean, I've seen some bread recipes say the dough's supposed to be dry, but this clearly was going to bake into bricks instead of bread.

We looked over the counter, seeing if there might be something else meant to go into this bowl, and espied... this!

Yep, if you left out the yeast and the orange zest (that had taken so friggen long to grate), we had basically made a big bowl of the same flour-paste that preschool teachers use as a modeling clay. Would this bowl of semi-melted, soupy butter  change turn it from homemade Play-Doh to bread?

Butter may not solve all of one's problems in life, but it certainly fixed this bread! Now, here we must note that there was a massive delay before we could actually bake it. Various people needed the kitchen for such trivial purposes as "making dinner" and "doing something about the awful mess." At any rate, the dough spent a long time on the counter before we finally baked it. At this point we were so friggen tired that we were not about to carefully shape this into the traditional bones and such.
Incidentally, that pizza cutter's about as sharp as a door key. But it does work well for cutting bread dough.

The dough smelled heavenly, like this mixture of oranges, roses, and homemade bread. If you tasted it, it seemed like it could become the cinnamon rolls of your most diabetic dreams. With bread this delicious, surely we could do better than just plopping squares on a pan.

Indeed, we made a semi-successful attempt at rolling the dough pieces into nice little spheres. We even brushed them with egg and sprinkled sugar on top just to make them extra nice. After all, this dough smelled and tasted so good, and we hadn't even put it in the oven yet.
Incidentally, for those who have difficulty evenly sprinkling sugar (or herbs or what have you) over rolls like this, we have a suggestion. Tip the spoon slightly sideways and wave it over the bread while gently tapping the forearm holding it. It added a lovely, clump-free dusting of sparkly sugar to each one.
Now, we did brush these things with egg to both make a lovely glazed top and also give the sugar something to stick to. Which meant we had a substantial quantity of unused egg still in its tiny little bowl.

Anyone familiar with the Book of Cookrye grocery budget will know how we feel about wasting nearly a whole egg.

I imagine Miss Coco glaring at me whenever I am tempted to throw away perfectly good food.

But that's all right, because once we set the rolls away to rise, we got out the soy sauce and a frying pan!
We may have overdone it on the soy sauce. But it's actually kind of impressive how perfectly it separated out and floated to the top.

Here we at A Book of Cookrye must give a warning to those who do a lot of baking in one night. You see, your kitchen will be so full of smells that your nose may not be able to tell you to see what's going on in the oven. You will eventually remember  that you had your last recipe of the night baking, peer into the oven, and see that it's too late to save your friggen bread from overbaking.

We tried to tell ourselves that they were just a bit well-colored on the outside, but unfortunately we tasted one.
Bread should not stay in rigid sheets like this.

In our fatal optimism, we brought them to our friend's Thanskgiving gathering anyway. He was super excited that I'd actually made a recipe request. Then he bit into one. He then thought for a moment, trying to determine how to be tactful. His exact words were "Is it OK if I put the rest of this in the trash?"
Fortunately, there was so much other food that I simply stashed the rolls in a dark corner of the kitchen (the trash can was too stuffed to accommodate a gallon bag of oversize bread rocks). However, I did see some people finding the bread hiding in its little corner of shame. They too discreetly didn't finish a single one. Fortunately, no one knew I made them.
Hope everyone else had a lovely Thanksgiving!

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Happy belated Thanksgiving from A Book of Cookrye!

Happy Thanksgiving Weekend from A Book of Cookrye! Indeed, it's once again time for us to make pies!
We redid the spine of this book ourselves, which is why it looks odd. But at least the book stopped falling apart.

It's also that time of year when people who never cook try to do so because family's coming over! We at A Book of Cookrye have gotten used to seeing the baking aisle relatively unpillaged. But when we went in the night before Thanksgiving, the aisle still showed evidence of being ransacked earlier that day. Even the spices, which seem to spend weeks if not months waiting on the shelves, were thoroughly trashed.

A favorite Book of Cookrye pasttime during the holidays is watching people who stare dumbfounded at the baking ingredients, amazed that stores have them. Imagine the reaction you would have if you went into a car parts store and found a whole section of buggy whips. We once witnessed a woman gawk at the flour, call someone on the spot, and say "They still sell this stuff!" Although the big rush was long over by the time we arrived after midnight, the cashier said that the baking aisle alone had been stuffed with at least twenty people at once.
This meant that we at A Book of Cookrye had to do the unthinkable: buy things that were not store-brand!

See that darker splot of powder? That is a very expensive powder splot, dagnabbit. Admire it. Bask in the full-priced, name-brand glory because the store didn't even have it discounted.

Also, I've found that a generous helping of allspice does wonders for an apple pie.
Now, we at A Book of Cookrye formerly used Gala apples for pies. They used to be just tart enough to have a kick, with a lovely, deep flavor that seemed to only improve in baking. Indeed, they made such delicious pies that when we saw complete strangers at the supermarket who did not know what apples to use, we would tell them that they simply had to use Galas for their pies and cobblers.
But lately, Galas have been getting prettier and blander. I think they're undergoing the same breeding-only-for-looks problem that made the Red Delicious taste like sweetened foam. Fortunately, the hoity-toity store near our house has, for whatever reason, insanely cheap produce and a lot of apple varieties. I think the produce might be a loss leader to entice customers into pay $20 for a bag of multigrain chips. This year's pie had half McIntosh and half Pink Ladies. We first had McIntosh apples when we managed to cross an international border for the first time in many years.
We got to go apple picking in the Canadian autumn!

However, we've never seen them shipped all the way down to the American south before. Did you know that when you cut them open, the inside is about as white as a cotton ball? Here's a mix of Pink Lady and McIntosh pieces so you can see for yourself.
These days we really like Pink Lady apples in pies, with a sweeter one mixed in to add some different flavors. This may change if apple breeders make the same mistake they did with Red Delicious and Gala, breeding them to look prettier without stopping to bite into one and see if it still tastes good.But let's move on to the pie crust! After trying to keep various mixtures neatly contained in bowls, we find it marvelously freeing to just throw flour all over the bare countertop and use the open space. Even if in this case, the countertop was already covered by a dreadful cooking mess, which forced us to instead use the stovetop.

This is the only thing I like about a flat-top stove.

Incidentally, you can use the extra pie crust scraps to make a crumb topping. Just add extra butter, sugar to taste, enough flour to make it crumbly, and spices to taste. The butter's really important. Without it, your crust scraps will turn rubbery as you try to force the extra things into them. But if you add enough butter, the pieces will get soft and crumbly again.
Ready for sprinkling!

Now, we at A Book of Cookrye faced a mild conundrum. You see, we had accidentally bought and cut up too many apples (we didn't want to be caught short and have to brave the grocery store again). Then we accidentally overestimated how much extra crust we'd need to make the crumb topping for the apple pie. In fact, even after making the crumb top, we had enough pie crust scraps to reroll and put in a small cake pan.
Note the foil condom over the cake pan, eliminating future washing and also making it easy to give away leftovers without having to try to get our pan back.

Incidentally, as you get your apples into the pie pan, you should know that if you don't eat at least some of this delicious sugary apple-spice sludge off the bowl, you either have a lot of willpower or no soul.

But anyway, back to the pies. We had made too much of everything- crust, apples, crumb top- to fit in one pan. But since all the components were ready and at hand, it took only a few minutes to throw the extra things together and produce a second pie. And so, we at A Book of Cookrye happily present: Apple pie and spare pie!

It's a Thanksgiving miracle!