Ass-Kicking Apple Pie

For a while now I've had a goal of devising an Ass-Kicking Apple Pie.  I managed a pretty good first draft a few weeks ago when I made this naked apple pie.

It had great apple pie flavor, and what I thought was a pleasant amount of heat.  The Chief Taster had only one piece, which makes me think the heat might have been too much for her delicate German palette, but perhaps she was just eschewing extra servings of dessert.  Problem is, I failed to take notes on what I did, and couldn't remember the ratios well enough to duplicate it this time.

But I still gave it another try.

We had a couple friends visit recently.  We knew they'd be in for several days, and I opened up food requests long before they arrived.  They only specified pie, which is how we entered Round Two.

Sadly, there isn't much food porn for this post, because I was talking the husband of the pair through making a batch of Bacon Cinnamon Rolls while I made the pie.  There was just enough room in our tiny kitchen for both of us to work, and my usual ritual of taking pictures was forgotten.

whole-wheat bacon cinnamon rolls, pre-baking

Two-Crust Pastry:
2 C all-purpose flour
1 t salt
2/3 C shortening
2 T oil
4 to 6 T cold water

This uses the same ratios I tried with the quiche crust earlier; just double it to make a two-crust pie.  I wanted to see whether I'd get the same effect I found in the quiche, when the crust pulled away from the pie dish.  If it did, it was nowhere near as pronounced, but apple pie is a much wetter dish than a baked quiche, and I think that played a big role in weighing down the pastry.  I also had a little trouble extracting pieces intact from the pie dish, but I later realized it's because we didn't allow it the specified cooling time.  Leftover slices lifted out easily, but at the time we weren't willing to give it the two hours cooling time called for in the original recipe; classy presentation is hardly a reason to wait before dessert.

Mix flour and salt in a medium bowl.  Cut in shortening and oil using a pastry blender.  Add water 1 T at a time, sprinkling it over the dough and tossing the mix with a fork until all flour is moistened.  I'm going to add a little to BC's notes here.  As you add oil and water, tossing all the time, larger clumps of dough will form.  Eventually, as with all dough, your hands are going in there.  This is that time with pie dough.  No matter what I'm making, I tend to use my non-dominant hand to get in the dough so my more capable hand is left clean for fine motor skills like adding a teaspoon of vanilla, or cracking eggs, or whatever is called for in that particular recipe.  If this works for you, do it.  If not, find your own favorite method.  In any case, when you start to get clumps of pie dough larger than aquarium pebbles and closer to marbles, it's time to stick a hand in there and squish stuff together.  You should be able to work all the flour into a single cohesive dough ball.  It will feel slightly oily; that's ok.  It's pie crust.  The oils make it easier to work and roll when you reach that point.  For now, make sure you can get that cohesion, and try to avoid adding too much water.  If you grasp your doughball tight enough to sink your fingers in a little and liquid dribbles out, you've gone too far.  If you're worried about hitting that point, add water in very small increments.  You'll get a good feel for it as you make more pies.  When you have a nice, cohesive doughball, put in a sealed container in the fridge for an hour or so and get started on the pie filling.

That's also when I opened a beer, but that step is optional.

Ass-Kicking Apple Pie, Draft 2:
1/2 C brown sugar
1/4 C all-purpose flour
1 t ground cinnnamon
1/2 t ground nutmeg
1 t cayenne
dash of salt
6 C thinly sliced baking apples (see notes, below)
2 T firm butter (optional)
1 T sugar (approx.)

I used Granny Smith apples, mainly because I know that Mom tended to use Granny Smith apples or Macintosh whenever she made pies, and Macs aren't in season right now.  The original recipe says to peel the apples.  I didn't.  Numerous sources tell us that the peel carries a significant amount of an apple's nutritional value, and we want a healthy decadent dessert, so leave the peel.  There's a reason most recipes specify peeling the apples first: apple peels don't soften much when they cook.  If you slice your apple so that you end up with a full section, with peel surrounding the flesh, you'll have a ring of peel that will come out in one piece when someone tries to get a simple bite of pie.  Don't do that.  When you slice the apple, do it in thin little wedges, so that none of the slices have a large section of peel.  I promise I'll illustrate this fully the next time I make a pie.  For now, you'll just have to trust me.  Or peel the apples.

Throw all your sliced apples into a large bowl.  Put the brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cayenne, and salt in a smaller bowl and mix them well, then add them to the apples and toss to coat.  When the filling's ready, set it aside and get the pastry out of the fridge.

Separate the pastry into two roughly equal parts.  One should be slightly larger than the other; we want that one first.  Cookbooks will tell you to flour the work surface, roll out the dough, and lift it up to put it in the pie dish.  If you can do that, more power to you, and my congratulations as well.  I'm not that cool yet.  I use plastic wrap, despite my continued inability to handle it without swearing.  Protip from my aunt: wipe down the work surface with a damp cloth before laying down the bottom sheet of plastic wrap.  That will help the plastic cling to the work surface and keep it from moving around under the dough as you roll it.  Flatten the larger dough ball a little with your hands, then put a second sheet of plastic wrap over it.  Use a rolling pin (or a wine bottle) to roll out the dough.  Move the pin as you work, crossing the center of the dough from several angles to maintain a round shape and uniform thickness.  When it is a little larger than the diameter of the top of your pie pan, remove the top sheet of plastic.  Slip one hand under the bottom sheet of plastic, and lift it from the work surface, and turn it into the pie dish, keeping it centered.  Work your fingertips around the bottom, pushing any air bubbles out from under the dough, then carefully peel off the plastic.  Press the dough to the sides of the pie dish, and make sure no air bubbles get trapped.

Spoon filling into the pie.  Next is the step I nearly forgot: cut those 2 T butter into little pieces and sprinkle them over the apples.  I forgot until the top crust was in place, but it hadn't been sealed yet, so I just folded it over, buttered half the pie, then flipped the fold to butter the rest.  No worries.  If you forget it entirely, it's optional anyway, so don't sweat it.  Roll out the second doughball, and put it on top of the pie.  Remember to remove all the plastic before baking, or it will smell bad while baking, and possibly kill people when they eat it.  Seal the two crusts together with your fingers, working your way around the pie's top edge.  Pierce the top crust with a sharp knife in several places (write your initials or draw a picture if you want, but keep it simple).  Brush a little water over the top, sprinkle with some sugar (about 1 T), and bake in preheated oven at 425F 40-50 minutes.  The top should be golden brown, and juices will bubble up through the crust vents, possibly drawing your initials in dark, sticky apple goo.

As you can tell, the separation between crust and plate wasn't as pronounced as it was in the quiche, but it's there.  A handy trick, and it originally came from a last-second substitution when I ran out of Crisco halfway into making a quiche.  There's probably a lesson in that, but I'm not going to guess what it might be.

What about the goal of making an Ass-Kicking Apple Pie?  The wife half of the couple who visited us said, "This pie is a Forget You Pie,"  (except she didn't say Forget You) "Because at first, you think 'This is really good apple pie,' then the pie is all, 'Bam!  FORGET YOU!'"  The pie did not say "Forget you," either.  She's still right.  Do you have to add cayenne to make a tasty pie?  Of course not.  But even our guest, who is more averse to spicy food than the Chief Taster, admitted that while she would not have considered adding it to an apple pie, she thought it was a great idea after tasting it, even if it was a little strong.

In this case, the cayenne is the crux move.  In climbing, the crux is that one move that can make an otherwise moderate route a difficult, beastly climb.  Or at least the hardest part of the route.  It's the part of the route that gets your attention; it is the part of the route that makes it worthwhile and exciting.  This is not your granny's apple pie.  Unless your granny is a hardcore climber and fan of spicy food.  In that case, go Granny!

This particular crux involved reaching around a lot of gooey bird poo.  The pie did not.

This pie, in its current formulation, needs some vanilla ice cream or whipped cream (which I immediately whipped up, haha) to temper the spice.  I'm going to need at least one more trial before I'm happy with the recipe, but this blog is about more than just the final product: it's about all the mistakes, missteps, and trials along the way.  You get to learn as I do.  Enjoy!

For anybody who's wondering, the whole-wheat bacon cinnamon rolls also turned out very well.  I was worried that they wouldn't rise well enough, but they proved me happily wrong.

Our female guest also surprised me: she thought that the cinnamon rolls actually stole the spotlight from the bacon.  She's apparently a bigger meat fiend than me, or any of the guys who climb with me.  Kind of scary.