Joss knows how to make one kind of pie. He was supposed to make it for me an awfully long time ago, but, being a boy, he forgot, and made a really gross pumpkin pie instead. He told me many times that he would need all day to make a french silk pie, and last week I finally convinced him to come make a pie with me. I set aside an entire day to do it.
So, on Saturday, at 10:16 AM, I get this message “START CHILLING A BIT MIXING BOWL.”
Three minutes later: “START CHILLING A BIG MIXING BOWL.”
CHILL TWO MIXING BOWLS
“Metal or glass?”
“Glass. Cold enough to make whip creme.”
Then, after I panicked, and try to stuff a mixing bowl into my freezer, he sends me this
“Actually…chill two bowls.”
“And what size does the second have to be? Cause I only have one large glass one.” When I have other people cooking in my kitchen I really don’t like to do any work. That includes thinking.
“Whatever your next largest bowl is I’m sure is fine.”
“Do you have a camera you can bring? My dad took ours to Florida?” Which is why the pictures are even worse than normal. They were taken on an iPhone. And while some think that iPhone cameras are awesome I know that’s just not so. But, I had no choice.
“Are you going to document the process?”
“Of course. I have a food blog, I take pictures of everything.”
This pie has a meringue crust. Joss complains "you greased the pan too well!" because the batter doesn't stick to the sides.
Then, a bit after one, I began to wonder why it was so desperately important that I freeze the bowls for so long. In my vast experience you really only need to freeze them for, like, half an hour. And I was nervous about this taking all day, as Joss has so frequently warned me.
“So is freezing forever what makes this take so long?”
“I was just curious. Also, there are people looking to move in next door and they have the most adorable puppy. Oh my god.”
“Lets put it in the pie.”
“Don’t we have to make the pie first?”
“…not if the dog is an ingredient.”
“I don’t like this pie anymore.”
“I don’t like YOU anymore.”
This is one of the Tall Boys, really, this is his post, except for the part where I wrote it. But he cooked.
“So when are you coming to make puppyfree pie?”
Later, after the pie was completed (it was delicious. It had to be, it’s mostly made of whipped cream.) we ventured to the Sweet Auburn Curb Market, which is host to a lot of interesting food events, (namely, The Atlanta Street Food Coalition‘s Urban Picnics) and is one of the only places I know of where you can buy an entire pig, to go to the Atlanta Underground Market. The Underground Market was a very interesting mix of food, it was sort of like an Urban Picnic (featuring street food vendors) and a bit like a festival. I am having a very hard time trying to describe the variety of food offered there but I think the main idea is that it is people who don’t have a vending license.
This is the meringue crust after being taken from the oven. It looks a little like something from the ocean, but Joss didn't have a problem with it.
It was delicious, and I highly recommend that if you live in the city you subscribe to the mailing list so that you have an opportunity to do this as well. (Also, let’s be honest, the secrecy of it is such a bonus, it’s like being in a special club.)
I get a little giddy when I am around vast quantities of food, particularly good food, so I, obviously, had a marvelous time. At one point (this was post barbeque) I found someone who was selling (for $2) ice cream cones filled with pudding with Grand Mariner cream on top. So I was happily eating my pudding and contemplating a beautiful tray of puff pastries (pastelitos) with Emma when she, also eating a puddincone, screamed. I looked over, and saw that she had found another layer of cream at the bottom of the pudding, and I also screamed. The woman selling the pastries (from Sugarloft she read my blog. It was a little awkward, but hey.) looked on a bit skeptically, but what can I do.
So, I asked her if one particularly gorgeous pastry had just guava, or guava and cheese, to which she responded that it had guava and cheese, and I shouted “Oh, thank God!” Emma and I bought it, and I finished my puddincone, and started on the guava cheese pastry, which was actually somewhere near godly. I was stuffing my face with pastry when someone dragged me away, but my only concern was “IS THERE MORE FOOD THERE?” which I shouted with half a pastry in my mouth.
You can't really grasp the majesty of this picture until you see it next to the picture taken right after it, at which point it becomes abundantly clear how bad my dancing it.
Eventually I found my way to a dimly lit back corner which had cupcakes, including the ever-popular Chocolate and Salted Caramel, (which Joss says I do better, and he’s normally not very nice to me, so it must be true) and a butcher. I love local meat—and not only because when I eat locally sourced meat I feel an awful lot better about myself and not destroying the environment—because it’s generally better than anything you can get in a store to the point where it isn’t even fair to compare it.
The women selling the meat had a selection of salami and breakfast sausages which were very good (and I say this as someone who hates salami) and had the added excitement of 1. visible spices (how cool is that?) and 2. being cured in-house.
Have I sold you on the Atlanta Underground Market yet? I hear they happen once a month.
- And, ew. Feet chillin in the bottom of this picture. This is the first layer of delicious pie filling.
Now here’s that French silk pie recipe you’d forgotten all about. Don’t you wish I’d been using a real camera? I sure do.
But here, so you can see how legit we are, it the scan of the french silk pie recipe.