And now for the luscious Wendy with a glorious recipe from Canada. The recipe involves mutants, half-dressed boyfriends and alliteration. What more could you ask for?
Today was a lovely/sweaty/muggy/energy sucking day in Toronto. So I did what any person in their right mind would do in these conditions…pre-heated my oven to 400F to make a pie.
Last week when I spied the fresh rhubarb at the year’s first farmer’s market in Nathan Phillip’s Square, I made a decision on the spot. “A week from this day, ” I thought, “I will make a pie.” That day, I had no money.
When pie time arrived, nothing was going to stop me from baking. Not the weather and the beads of perspiration on my nose; not my half-naked boyfriend (wearing only shorts) who tied me up to keep me from heating up the apartment even more. No matter – I made him bake the pie.
Ok, so I made the pie. The following documents my adventure:
Here is the mutant rhubarb I purchased. You can’t really see its mutant qualities; mutant meaning that it was uncharacteristically huge. This picture shows like, less than half of it. Or maybe I’ve just never seen large rhubarb.
The recipe suggested that I could use store-bought crust if I was lazy enough. Since I am, I agreed. I hope you don’t think less of me.
I diced up the pieplant (once upon a time, people called rhubarb “pieplant”. I think “Pieplant Pie” is much more entertaining than “Rhubarb Pie”); then added dry ingedients – sugar, and salt.
Then, I added melted butter and a beaten egg. Mixing it up, I contemplated its fine goo-iness. This led to realizing that I had forgotten the flour when I mixed in the dry ingredients. Fearing explosions, I added the flour at this late stage. Luckily, only slight eruptions occured. Here’s what it looked like when it calmed down:
So. This recipe was supposed to make one 10 inch pah. I had 2 nine inch crusts, and soon discovered that I had enough mixture for both of them. Here’s the twins:
Next, the recipe demanded that I combine sugar, flour and cold butter until it became coarse crumbs. A little finger action did the trick.
After sprinkling the mixture atop the pies, I took a blurry picture for artistic effect.
After 40 minutes in the oven, here’s the results. The other pah looks exactly the same. *Cough*
Topping it with some no-sugar-added ice cream (to cancel out the pie), I was ready to scarf some Pieplant Pie. Mmm…pieplant.
i work with wendy so i can attest to her utter brilliance. i fear that soon she will feel like i’m stalking her, but if that’s how want to label worship, then do what you must. i really won’t bake this pie or anything, but just felt that i should comment.
Adam I did not bother to email you so I decided to post on here….I thought of an idea of what you could make. “HOMEMADE FALAFELS” I had a Falafel two days in a row and it was amazing. Plus I think it would be a good challenge for you to make all the sauces and the balls. Take Care
ahhh… my friend wendeh… so creative. your pies look de-lish… if only I liked rhubarb (ummm, pieplant). maybe I will get my pie-baking sister to give the recipe a try.
HALF NAKED BOYFRIEND????
Ummm I was to understand that there would be punch and pie at this party.
Sorry bro…I got thirsty waiting for the pie and drank the punch. Let it be known that if you were here, the punch would have been served with the pah.
Dad – hot weather in mind, the bf removed the shirt for cooling purposes only.
not bad for city folk … next time you venture north to the country I can put you to work baking too! … J:)
Wendy just can’t stop ruling. The other day she was wearing a t-shirt, with a picture of a piece of pizza, with a face on it, that said ‘Don’t eat me, I love you!’ Who knew Pizza had feelings?
mmmm. pah.
i’m hungry, and thus i am rebelling against capital letters. take that.