18 Jun Father’s Day Pie
How great is my dad? He’s so wonderful his son-in-law donned oven mitts and let his wife boss him about for 3 hours so there would be homemade pie for dessert on Father’s Day. How great is my husband? He’s so wonderful he donned oven mitts and let his wife boss him about for 3 hours so his father-in-law could have homemade dessert for Father’s Day.
I am surrounded by greatness.
I had planned to deliver a tribute post and a big dish of Lemon Meringue Pie for Father’s Day. But Murphy intervened.
On the final leg of the journey home from Newfoundland, I wrenched my back shoving my luggage under a storage rack. Unable to lift anything heavier than a coffee mug, I couldn’t dress myself, let alone make my contribution — dessert, of course — to the family Father’s Day Dinner. As I explained to my mom why dessert would have to be store bought, Andrew interrupted.
“I’ll make the pies.”
I think I said something sarcastic. For this rudeness, I blame the meds. As I resumed the dessert discussuion with my mom, Andrew interrupted again.
“No. I mean it.” He was insistant. “Just walk me through it.”
“I’ll get bossy,” I said, thinking he’d back down. I can be bossy at the best of times. My in-pain bossy is not to be taken lightly. He knew this going in.
“Where do we start?” he asked.
As with all things bloggy, we start with a camera. Since my Canon was too heavy, I used my iPhone. Below is photographic evidence that Dr. Andrew M. Thomson was the official Pie Maker for Father’s Day Dessert. (If you look carefully at the picture above, you will see me in the mirror taking the shot.) Now before certain people call and read me the riot act, I rested between steps. Andrew checked the baseball scores, so everybody won.
This montage below shows Andrew making the pastry. I used the recipe from Marcy Goldman’s Apple-Raspberry Patchwork Crostata, which is ideal for a first time pastry maker. I told Andrew how to measure the flour, chop the butter and mix. While the dough chilled, we rested.
When it came time to roll the dough, I allowed Andrew to use my beloved French rolling pin — despite him referring to it as The Upgraded Stick. Granted, the first rolling was rather freeform, but he patched the pastry neatly. He even docked the dough before blind baking the crust.
Then we rested.
The next step was making the filling and meringue.
“It’s not good weather for meringues,” Andrew told me.
I will never accuse him of not listening again.
Andrew found the microplane tricky, so he grated the lemon with a box grater. And an admirable job he did of it, delivering two lemon’s worth of pith-free zest.
The eggs also proved a bit of a challenge. The first ended up scrambled by the time it hit the bowl. However, he caught on quickly and separated the next two eggs without issue. Using my stand mixer, he whipped the meringue to perfection and fussed over its application.
The pie went into the oven.
And then we rested.
The second pie — a mixed berry — went more smoothly. As you can see, he rolls the dough more uniformly and even uses the microplane for the orange zest.
By the time the second pie came out of the oven, I was toast, the house smelled wonderful and we had two desserts to present my father, who graciously shared (although everyone noted he kept an extra big slice of lemon pie for himself).
As the compliments piled about Andrew, he took them graciously. “I was born to bake,” he said as he licked the fork.
So, how great is my Dad (or husband)? In both cases, the answer is the same. He’s a Two Pie Guy.
Got a story to share? Use another phrase? Speak up! I’m a sucker for this kind of tale.