2. In a large bowl, combine the apple slices, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice, spices, and flour. Toss well.
3. Spoon the apples into the pie pan, along with any juices that may have collected. Dot the fruit with the butter, and cover with the remaining pastry circle. Cut several steam vents across top. Seal the edges by crimping them in your signature pattern. Brush the top crust with the egg wash and sprinkle with additional sugar.
4. Bake for 45 to 55 minutes, or until the top crust is golden and the juices are bubbling.
5. Transfer the pie to a wire rack to cool completely before serving. Serve at room temperature or slightly warmed, preferably with ice cream or whipped cream (or both; heck, apples are health food!) on the side.
I’M FAIRLY CERTAIN THAT NO ONE would disagree that a shortcrust pastry filled with a rich chocolate-nut-caramel filling is an extremely delicious and enjoyable treat. In fact, if anything, it’s almost too good, practically begging you to eat another slice … or ten.
Even local restaurants and bakeries now call their pies by other, non-infringing names, including but not limited to Triple Crown Pie, Winner’s Pie, Race Day Pie, and (my favorite) Pegasus Pie.
However, you will face a big-time objection of the legal variety if you try to bake this pie and call it Derby-Pie®, which is one of the most famous versions of this dessert. Because unless you’re a member of the Kern family that invented the pie and holds the trademark, you do not know the secret recipe—and you might just have a lawsuit on your hands.
It all began in the 1950s when Walter and Leaudra Kern, owners of the Melrose Inn of Prospect, Kentucky, created a specialty dessert. Assisted by their son George, they tested and tweaked and retested their recipe, finally settling on the ultimate version of their nutty-chocolaty-gooey creation. The name was chosen by virtue of sweet serendipity: after reaching an impasse (with every family member having a different idea for the name), they all put their names in a hat; the chosen slip of paper read “Derby Pie.”
In 1969 the Kerns trademarked their recipe, along with its name. (The hyphen and trademark symbol are part of the name—so get it right: it’s Derby-Pie®.) The trademark wasn’t strongly enforced until the late 1970s, when the Kern’s grandson, Alan Rupp, took over the business and began religiously defending the trademark. Now, by that time, wannabe recipes had found their way into various cookbooks far and wide. Part of Rupp’s job included challenging publications that featured a similar pie and used the family’s trademarked name. In 1982, the company even went after a self-published local cookbook (you know the kind: with the plastic spiral binding and recipes from all your favorite neighbors), demanding that the book be recalled so that the page with the recipe could be removed.
Bon Appétit had a victory later in the ’80s when a judge deemed Derby-Pie® generic, but the decision was later reversed. Even packaged-food giant Nestlé was sued at one point. Laugh if you’d like, but the Kerns have a reputation for winning these lawsuits. As a result, even local restaurants and bakeries now call their pies by other, non-infringing names, including but not limited to Triple Crown Pie, Winner’s Pie, Race Day Pie, and (my favorite) Pegasus Pie.
Why be so protective of the name? While one might argue that they should just let it slide, it can’t be denied that trademarks lose strength if what they stand for is allowed to erode and change on the whims of others. The Derby-Pie® recipe is still fiercely protected by the Kerns—it’s baked only on their premises, and sold to approved retailers and via mail order. And more power to them: while the basic elements of the pie are easily recognizable, no one has ever been able to exactly duplicate their special filling and delicate crust.
This recipe is not for the genuine Derby-Pie®. I’m certainly not privy to the top-secret recipe, and truly, if you want that unique taste experience, you’re going to have to buy one for yourself—or better yet, visit them in Kentucky. But what I can share is a recipe for a pie that is a downright naughty indulgence and will certainly whet your appetite for sweetness.
Nutty Chocolate Pie
THIS IS BASICALLY A PECAN PIE (a really good pecan pie) with all its glorious amenities: booze, toasted nuts, and that awesome slightly jelly-like brown sugary filling. But it really goes over the top with the addition of chocolate chips (or your favorite semi- or bittersweet chocolate bar, chopped into small pieces) sprinkled in the bottom of the pan. The chocolate softens but doesn’t quite melt into the delicious filling.
Makes one 9-inch pie (8 to 10 servings)
Dough for one 9-inch piecrust, homemade or store-bought
¾ cup chopped toasted walnut
¾ cup chopped toasted pecans
8 ounces (about 1 cup) semisweet chocolate morsels
1 cup dark corn syrup
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup firmly packed light brown sugar
¼ cup rum, bourbon, or water
3 large eggs
¼ cup (½ stick) butter, melted
2 teaspoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
½ teaspoon salt
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
2. Roll the pie dough into a circle about 12 inches in diameter; place it into a 9-inch pie pan and crimp the edges (or use a commercial frozen pie shell). Sprinkle the nuts and chocolate evenly onto the bottom of the piecrust; set aside.
3. In a large saucepan, combine the corn syrup, sugars, and bourbon, and bring to a boil over medium heat. Once boiling, cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring constantly to avoid scorching. Remove from the heat.
4. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, butter, cornstarch, vanilla, and salt. Slowly pour about one-quarter of the hot mixture into the egg mixture, whisking constantly (if you add the hot syrup too quickly, the eggs will cook). Add the remaining hot mixture, continuing to whisk. If you notice any small lumps in the mixture, strain through a mesh sieve. Pour the filling slowly over the nuts and chocolate, being careful not to move them around within the piecrust.
5. Bake for 50 to 55 minutes, or until set in the center; cool on a wire rack. Serve the pie at room temperature with whipped cream or ice cream, if desired. To store the pie, wrap it tightly and refrigerate for up to 5 days.
LEMON MERINGUE PIE IS POSSIBLY THE MOST DRAMATIC dessert in the diner dessert case: a rich, neon-yellow custard pie topped with a sky-high cloud of lightly-crisp-on-the-edges meringue. Who could even dream up such a pie, visually more like an avant-garde art object than a digestible dessert? As it turns out, it’s really three separate dishes that were ingeniously combined as one.
Today, it’s a dessert that embraces a bit of high culture in low-priced eateries, and remains a unique sweet-tart favorite in this great land of ours.
First on the scene was meringue, which had been kicking around since the 1600s. Then came the filling. Lemon desserts had been prepared in America since even before nation’s formation: Columbus brought lemon seeds with him on his journeys, and the Spanish planted lemons in what is now California. As for the custard, per the Food Journal of Lewis & Clark, the Quakers received credit for developing lemon custard recipes in the late 1700s, and the concept became popular and more widespread in the early 1800s. Given their fondness for pies, it wouldn’t be too crazy to imagine that the Quakers could see the beauty in plopping down some of that beautiful, tangy custard into one of their delicious piecrusts.
But it was a city girl named Elizabeth Coane Goodfellow who deserves credit for taking this dessert to sky-high levels of delight when she brought the custard and the meringue together in delicious pie matrimony. Goodfellow was an interesting lady: American pastry cook, confectioner, and cooking school instructor—and, legend has it, ancestor of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. She was married three times, and her third marriage, to a clockmaker in Philadelphia, brought her to the city, where she started a cooking school—not a common thing for a lady to do in the early 1800s. Nobody knows where she honed her skills as a cook, but apparently she was quite good: among other
accomplishments, she was a mentor to Eliza Leslie, whose books went on to become extremely influential early-American cookbooks. Although Goodfellow never published her own book, she is remembered for something far more delicious: introducing lemon meringue pie.
The concept was featured in Eliza Leslie’s popular books, and it didn’t take long for this early version of the pie to spread far and wide. It caught like fire across the northeast, notably at the Parker House Hotel (also the home of the Boston cream pie), where it was perfected. From there, it gained popularity in commercial kitchens before finding its place in American diners. Today, it’s a dessert that embraces a bit of high culture in low-priced eateries, and remains a unique sweet-tart favorite in this great land of ours.
Lemon Meringue Pie
THIS RECIPE CALLS FOR A CRUST that uses vegetable shortening: while one might make a good argument for the superior taste of an all-butter crust, I urge you to try this one, using at least part shortening, to get the real diner-style piecrust experience. I find that while you get a slightly less flaky crust with the shortening, it is very tender—and it acts a bit like a sponge, absorbing the flavors of the lemon custard in a very nice way. Though optional, a few drops of yellow food coloring add a little “oomph” to the naturally pale yellow cake.
Makes one 9-inch pie (8 servings)
4 egg yolks
1½ cups sugar
⅓ cup cornstarch
1½ cups water
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened and cut into pieces
2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest
½ cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 to 3 drops yellow food coloring (optional)
One 9-inch Piecrust (recipe follows)
3½ cups Meringue Topping (recipe follows)
1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
2. In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks with a fork. Set aside.
3. Whisk together the sugar and cornstarch in a medium saucepan. Add the water. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently. Let it come to a boil; stir constantly for 1 minute at the boiling point. It will begin to thicken. Remove from the heat.
4. Immediately pour about one-quarter of the hot mixture into the egg yolks; when well combined, pour this mixture back into the saucepan. Boil and stir for 2 minutes; remove from the heat. Add the butter, lemon zest, lemon juice, and food coloring. Stir until the butter is melted and everything is well combined. Pour the hot filling into the piecrust.
5. Prepare the meringue topping, then spoon it onto the filling. Spread it evenly over the filling, carefully sealing the meringue to the edges of the crust to prevent shrinking or weeping. Using a knife, form the top of the meringue into little peaks (think punk hairdo) or make swirls on the top for a pretty finish.
6. Bake for 8 to 12 minutes, or until the meringue is light brown. Set the pie on a wire cooling rack and allow to cool in a draft-free place for about 2 hours. Cover and refrigerate the cooled pie until serving. Store any leftover pie in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.
PIECRUST
Makes one 9-inch crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
⅓ cup plus 1 tablespoon shortening (can use part butter), chilled
2 to 3 tablespoons ice-cold water
1. In a medium bowl, mix the flour and salt. Cut in the shortening and/or butter using a pastry blender (or pulling 2 table knives through the ingredients in opposite directions), until the particles are the size of small peas. Sprinkle with the cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time, tossing with a fork until all the flour is moistened and the pastry almost cleans the sides of the bowl (1 to 2 teaspoons more water may be added if necessary).
2. Gather the pastry into a ball. On a lightly floured surface, shape it into a flattened round. Wrap in plastic wrap; refrigerate for about 45 minutes, or until the dough is firm and cold, yet pliable. (Chilling the dough allows the shortening to become slightly firm, which helps make the baked pastry flakier.) If refrigerated longer, let the pastry soften slightly before rolling.
3. Using a floured rolling pin, roll the dough into a circle about 12 inches in diameter, dusting the board and the top of the dough as needed to prevent sticking. Fold the pastry into fourths; center it in a 9-inch pie pan. Unfold the dough and ease it into plate, pressing firmly against the bottom and sides. Trim any overhanging dough so that it extends about 1 inch from the rim of the pie pan. Fold the edge of the dough under, making it even with plate. Press together, then flute or crimp the edge decoratively as desired. Prick the bottom and sides of the dough thoroughly with a fork. Freeze the pastry until it is hard—about 30 minutes.
4. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F.
5. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until light brown; cool on a wire rack.
MERINGUE TOPPING
Makes 3½ cups meringue
4 egg whites
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
⅓ cup sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1. In a very clean medium bowl, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar with an electric mixer on high speed until foamy. Add the sugar 1 tablespoon at a time, followed by the vanilla, and continue beating until stiff and glossy.
HERE’S A FUN LITTLE FACT: “pecan” is a Native American word used to describe “nuts requiring a stone to crack.” It’s true. But as hard as those nuts might be to crack, it’s worth the effort, because they are the very heart of that sticky, make-your-teeth-hum-and-your-soul-buzz-with-sweetness dessert known as pecan pie.
When French and Spanish colonists along the Gulf of Mexico began raising and exporting the pecan, it became a worldwide phenomenon.
The long road from discovery to pie production began with a little nut that could: the pecan. It’s actually the only major tree nut that is native to North America. Pecans were used by Native Americans, then cultivated by Spanish settlers in Mexico. When French and Spanish colonists along the Gulf of Mexico began raising and exporting the pecan, it became a worldwide phenomenon. Its popularity spread as it became more widely available, and the nut quickly became a staple in the gardens of such folks as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.
It is the aforementioned French settlers who brought the pecan to New Orleans, which was to become Pecan Central: the climate was favorable for growing the nuts, water was plentiful, and distribution venues made it a great choice. For a time, revenues from the pecan harvest were more valuable than cotton.
But let’s get back to arguably the finest use of pecans: as a decadent filling for pies. During the pecan’s early days in the southern United States, a few things happened. First, the French connection: Pralines, an almond and caramelized sugar confection, were reimagined stateside with pecans and became very popular in the New Orleans area. Considering this, the jump from confection to pie wasn’t so drastic, and the pie proved popular in the region: an early recipe called Texas Pecan Pie appeared in Ladies’ Home Journal in 1897. The recipe, which called for a custard base as well as pecans soaked in milk, is clearly an ancestor—but it’s not quite the pie we think of today.
And then, along came Karo, the corn syrup company. According to company lore, a sales executive’s wife discovered a new use for corn syrup when she combined it with sugar, eggs, vanilla, and pecans, and baked it in a pie shell. Sheer brilliance! (In the South, the recipe was and still is called Karo Pie.) And so a debt of gratitude must be paid, yes, to corn syrup. Pecan pie soon made its debut in such well-known cookbooks as The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book and The Joy of Cooking.
Pecan Pie
UNBELIEVABLY RICH, this pie has gained special-occasion status, and tends to be most popular around the holidays as a dense, comforting cold-weather dessert. When making this pie, the only fussy part of the recipe is tempering the eggs; if you do it too quickly, you could end up a scramble in your sweet mixture. But don’t stress. Take a deep breath, beat like heck, and keep your eyes on the prize: a delicious pie at the end of that baking road.
Dough for one 9-inch piecrust, homemade or store-bought
1 cup light corn syrup
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 large eggs
2 cups coarsely chopped pecans, lightly toasted
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
2. Roll the pie dough into a circle about 12 inches in diameter; place it into the pie pan and crimp the edges (or use a commercial frozen pie shell). Keep the dough refrigerated while you prepare the filling.
3. Put the corn syrup and brown sugar in a heavy saucepan over medium heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until the sugar dissolves. The mixture will bubble lightly.
4. Remove from the heat and add the butter, water, and vanilla. Let the mixture cool to warm, then slowly add the eggs and whisk vigorously until smooth (don’t add the eggs while the mixture is still very hot, or you’ll have scrambled eggs!).
5. Arrange the pecans on the bottom of the crust. Carefully pour the filling over them (some will magically rise to the top). Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, or until the filling is set. What to do if the crust is browning more rapidly than the insides are setting up? Cover the edges with foil, and the crust will not brown so quickly. Let the pie cool completely before slicing.
6. To store the pie, wrap it tightly and refrigerate for up to 5 days.
THIS EARTHY, COMFORTING, SPICE-INFUSED PIE is the perfect intersection of mellow pumpkin and rich custard, served in a flaky crust; a cozier late-autumn treat would be hard to imagine. Today, its presence at the Thanksgiving table is practically a requirement.
The Secret Lives of Baked Goods Page 7