I never really understood the love people have for apple pie. Or any fruit pies in general.
It just seems too simple to me. Pastry and cooked fruit.
I don’t even like cooked fruit. I enjoy texture and brightness, and for me, baking, steaming, or poaching fruit, sends them to an inevitable death of intolerable sweet mushiness. In terms of apple pie in a nostalgic sense, my mom never made any pies, nor do I have any fond childhood memories of them.
As for the pies that I have eaten so far in my life, they’re nothing but repressed memories of overly sweet, muddy fruit enveloped by a pie pastry that is either too dry, too crumbly, too thick and doughy, or too thin and soggy.
Yet I know the perfect pie exists- it has to, people love pies.
I imagine that if I were to have a good apple pie, it would be this: a nicely browned, buttery crust that crumbles just slightly under your fork, giving way to a filling of apples that arent too sweet but still full of flavour, not mushy, but tender. The dough is flaky, but sturdy, with a hint of salt to balance out the natural juices in the fruit.
It makes me think then, about how something so simple can be extraordinary and just okay at the same time.
The thing is, when you’re making something simple, there’s nowhere to hide. It’s all about technique and ingredients. Continue reading
avec chantilly 