Already getting dark and it's only 4:30? Yep, must be winter coming on. Snow down to 500 feet tonight, they say, but we've been disappointed before. In any case, we made the trip to Les Schwab for tire chains to get us across the Siskyous next week. There is always hope!
I made a very unfortunate decision to try a program called Farm to Fit this week, and Larry and I have been suffering the consequences. It's a local enterprise providing chef-cooked meals for a period of the customer's choosing, in my case, 5 days. I did this at the suggestion of my so-called trainer at the gym, and I should have considered the vast differences between her needs and mine before jumping. As in, she's a young, new mom, probably with only a slight acquaintance with the stove in her high-rise condo . . . Anyway, the food is fresh, local, and fits a profile of calories, again customer's choice.
The first two or three offerings were okay, and then the meals sank to dismal. We had to pick up the remainder of the pre-paid meals this afternoon, and performed triage on the kitchen counter -- which items could be frozen to await our return from California after Thanksgiving. And stared at the food we'll have to choke down tonight and tomorrow. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Jenny Craig was never this bad! I did think it would be an easy way to get through a few exceedingly busy days. But if there's a bright side, it is the pleasure with which we look forward to leaving home on Monday morning.
To that end, I'm sending out my recipe for pie crust, with the usual preamble: I used to be able to create perfect crusts that rolled out smoothly and tasted good, and then I couldn't. I suspected a change in the composition of all-purpose flour, or atmospheric disturbance, anything but flawed technique. Finally a cooking magazine came to the rescue, Cooks Magazine, to give credit where due. This magazine, and the cookbooks they churn out have an m.o. that is sort-of interesting, sort-of annoying -- they attempt to perfect a given dish, then walk the reader through all the steps, usually including a consultation with a food scientist. On this one beautiful day, pie crust was the object of their attention. And the secret ingredient is: Vodka. Really. Here's how it goes.
Foolproof Pie Dough
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 oz) all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 TBS sugar
12 TBS cold butter, cut into 1/4 inch bits
1/2 cup cold Crisco, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold Vodka
1/4 cup cold water
1. Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in processor, about two 1-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogenous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour.) Scrape bowl with spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mix is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mix into medium bowl.
2. Sprinkle Vodka and water over mix. With spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together (think Play-Doh) Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disks. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes.
Note: This easily makes enough for 3 full-size pie-plate crusts, so if making one double crust pie, I typically would make a 2/3 size recipe. However, I learned that I can freeze the disks, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, so usually do make the whole lot. Also, I have taken to making 6-7" pies for the two of us, and in that case, divide the dough accordingly and freeze 5 or 6 nice little disks.
The explanation of the magic is that the Vodka dissipates in the baking (you can't taste or get a buzz from it), but it allows enough liquid to make the dough easy to roll out and place on the plate. The result is a flaky, and yet beautiful crust. And no, my darlings, I haven't tried it with gin!
P.S. I don't know why Vodka always appears capitalized -- obviously proprietary, but I don't know what or who this Vodka may be.
Now, on to California! Sunshine! (Please)
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