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Jim Dodge's Remarkable Flaky Pie Pastry

Time1 hour
YieldsMakes pastry for 1 (9x1 1/4-inch) or (9x1 1/2-inch) pie dish or pan
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The running border through the pages of “Crumbs From Everybody’s Table” reads “Send Your Newly Married Friend a Copy of ‘Crumbs From Everybody’s Table.’” Clearly someone followed this advice, because it was my grandmother’s first cookbook when she became Mrs. Frank Stewart in 1909.

“Crumbs” is a turn-of-the-century collection of recipes gathered from women around the Salinas Valley--women like my grandmother Alice, who had been born and raised just over the Coast Range in Selma in the Great Valley. The easy availability of ingredients was taken for granted--almost every fruit and vegetable grown in California was farmed nearby--as was an abundance of oysters, wild birds and game, to say nothing of the usual fish, poultry and meat.

After she moved to Ocean Park (now a neighborhood of Santa Monica), where her young husband was a postal inspector by day and a law student by night, the food was not as varied and, of course, it was more expensive. Still my mother--Alice’s and Frank’s firstborn--remembers her childhood as a blur of glorious meals at her mother’s table. No crumbs left on it, ever.

Like most community cookbooks from any time or place, half of “Crumbs” is devoted to sweet things. “Puddings and Their Sauces” get 23 pages. “Fancy Desserts” get 16 pages. “Frozen Dainties,” 11 pages. There are, sigh, 55 pages of “Cakes and Cake Fillings.” Other days, perhaps we can look into each of them. But right now the pie chapter is on my mind.

That’s because recently I happened to serve a friend Mrs. E. Williams’ Transparent Pie. Now transparent pie is not truly transparent, though its filling is a custard that’s at least translucent (perhaps even that is stretching it). Nor, some would argue, is it truly a pie--having just one crust makes it a tart. Perhaps Mrs. Williams was a Southern girl, since the pie is an heirloom from the South. (Funny thing; I’ve seen a dozen recipes for transparent pie, and all they have in common is the title.)

For flavoring, Mrs. Williams calls for “white jelly [tart].” The first time I made the pie, I used quince jelly because I had some I’d just put up from our pineapple quince tree. It was a felicitous choice, because the quince’s floral flavor and perfume--quinces are cousins of roses, remember?--were heavenly. If you don’t happen to have quince jelly on your shelf, look for it in ultra-fancy groceries (yes, it will be expensive). Then make the tart for someone special.

My friend pronounced it one of his all-time favorite desserts and ate two helpings. So when I had another menu to plan, I went back to “Crumbs” and the pie chapter. Turning the 15 pages gently (I lose flakes of pages every time I open the book, alas), I noticed a surprising number had custard fillings. When I came across Mrs. J.W. Stirling’s Squash Pie, I remembered it was the one I’d baked for Thanksgiving, which had been declared the best “pumpkin” pie any of us had ever eaten.

Part of what enchants me about these old-fashioned recipes is that after the list of ingredients, the directions range from none to terse. In her transparent pie recipe, Mrs. Williams goes so far as to say, “Bake with under crust only.” In those days, every girl helped her mother or whoever was in the kitchen, and she breathed in cookery knowledge with the aromas from simmering pots and roasting pans.

This time I decided to make a plain custard pie, largely because I was enchanted by the directions for the nutmeg:

“CUSTARD PIE: Line a pie plate with good crust, pinching an extra brim around the top that the custard may be the depth of the plate. Grate nutmeg over bottom until well sprinkled with it. Beat four eggs well with three-fourths cupful of sugar, then add little over a pt. of milk. Bake in moderate oven. Sufficient for large sized pie.

“Mrs. E. F. Hawkins.”

This also proved to be perfection. Three in a row.

What these pies have in common is their simplicity, their purity. They are easy as pie to make. You’ll find the filling goes together one-two-three: Measure, whisk and pour into the shell. Only the Transparent Pie filling wants anything so fussy as creaming.

An enormous part of what makes these recipes so splendid is the flaky pastry dough I use. It comes from Jim Dodge, formerly the pastry chef at the Stanford Court hotel in San Francisco and now in charge of food service at the Getty Center. He is a brilliant, original thinker, constantly simplifying and elevating his art, and this pastry dough is remarkable.

Custard pies are a fascinating genre, particularly the simple, old-fashioned ones, because there are no hiding places for sloppiness or flaws. I’ve learned a lot about their ins and outs and, while there will always be more to learn, what I know now I’m handing on to you. Just as Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Stirling and Mrs. Williams--and Mr. Dodge--have handed on what they loved creating to me.

Under the chapter “Pies” is written a quote from Longfellow: “Who’ll dare deny the truth, there’s poetry in pie?”

Not me.

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1

Place the flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl and blend with your fingertips. Cut the butter into thin 1/2-inch chips and add to the bowl. Toss the mixture with your hands until each chip is coated with flour.

2

Turn onto a broad work surface. Roll out until the butter chips have turned into long flakes; use a flexible scraper to gently remove pieces that stick to the pin or board and coat them with flour.

3

Return the mixture to the bowl. Sprinkle it with water and blend with a large rubber spatula or kitchen spoon until the water has been absorbed, about 15 strokes. Dust the top lightly with flour, then press the mixture down into the bowl--4 or 5 gentle pushes will press everything together.

4

Sprinkle the work surface with flour and turn the dough out onto it. Dust the rolling pin generously with flour. Dust the dough with flour and roll it into a rectangle about 1/4 inch thick. The dough will be loose, but fold the long edges over to meet in the center. Give the package a turn so the long way runs side to side. Roll out, fold and turn as before until the dough begins to hold together, usually 2 more times.

5

Fold over the corners and press into a 6-inch round. The dough can be rolled out at once or wrapped and refrigerated. If chilled, let it rest at room temperature until soft enough to roll.

6

Place the round on your lightly floured work surface and dust the top with flour. Roll out into a 13-inch circle. Brush off any flour and roll the circle up loosely on the pin a little more than halfway, brushing off flour underneath. Slide the pie dish underneath it and unroll the pin over it, centering the circle.

7

Gently push the dough down into the corners at the bottom of the dish, then firmly up against the sides without stretching the dough (this is important).

8

Make the border fairly even all around (it doesn’t have to be perfect) by trimming any excess with scissors and using these scraps to patch any skimpy places (drops of cold water will seal the seams). Tuck the border under itself to make the edge even with the rim.

9

Finish the border by fluting (poke the tip of a finger into the dough on one side and pinch it on the other side, making a V; repeat right next to the V and so forth around the border) or impressing an edging with the tines of a fork.

10

Chill for 20 to 30 minutes.

11

For crisp pastry under custard pies, the shell must be fully baked before filling. Heat the oven to 400 degrees.

12

To keep the dough from shrinking and puffing as it bakes, it must be held in place for the first 2/3 of baking. Cut 2 sheets of foil or parchment paper about 15 inches long. Lay them in the dish at right angles. Fill the shell to the rim with metal pie weights, dried beans, rice or a combination--you’ll need at least 5 cups (7 is ideal). As you pour in the weights, press them firmly down into the corners at the bottom of the dish and up against the sides; also fill every V of fluting. Bake in the center of the oven for 20 minutes, then carefully lift out the foil or paper and weights (save them for next time). Continue baking, checking after 3 to 4 minutes to make sure the pastry isn’t puffing up. If it is, prick the bubbles with a fork. Continue baking, checking again a few minutes later for puffing, until the pastry is golden all over, 10 to 15 minutes in all. Cool if not filling at once.