Saturday, August 04, 2012

Sometimes Pie becomes Something Else

Let them eat pie!

That's the plan for tomorrow night, anyway.  Loretta Lynch has turned ten.  And we're launching ourselves into the next ten years with two sets of music and a whole crapload of pie.

And it was me who had the *brilliant* idea to bake the pies from scratch,  ha!  What the heck was I thinking?  I guess I was thinking that I wanted to spend more time learning about the art of pastry.  But I woke up this morning thinking that I wanted to learn more about the art of sleeping, the art of blowing off all responsibility after weeks, months of super tight scheduling, running from this to that to the other thing and then back again.  Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.

Meanwhile, the new dog, much as we love her, has had some terrible digestive issues lately that has her, and me, waking up multiple times per night, every night.  How in the heck you parents of little ones do it is beyond me!

Anyway.  I woke up today at 9, after waking up at 4:30 and 7, after having gone to bed at 1.  I was ragged and crusty.  I couldn't comprehend the thought of pie from scratch. So I turned to a few different cookbooks.  I remembered an interesting looking recipe for strawberry rhubarb pie from the Bi-Rite Market cookbook.  I opened it up & casually thumbed through it, and randomly landed on the page for Seared Saffron Albacore Tuna with Fennel-Olive Tapenade.  And I decided right then & there that I needed to make it.  It kind of became my obsession for the day.

And so I bought some perfectly nicely packaged pre-made pies for tomorrow's show, along with some local albacore tuna, escarole, olives, fennel, and local heirloom peppers.   And I came home and got to cooking fiercely and with so much joy after weeks of running, lathering, rinsing, repeating.  And then I made the recipe from the Bi-Rite cookbook, verbatim, and it was completely and utterly stellar, tender, juicy, perfectly rare fish with salty earthy tapenade and sturdy, lemony greens.  It was a home run.  I was so afraid I'd ruin the fish but I didn't.  Dang.  I feel like more of a rock star than if I'd actually made ten pies.  It was off the charts.  And I really can't take a lick of credit beyond opening that cookbook and getting struck with the fire, the passion, the mission to make this dish and the wherewithal to see it through until the end.   Although, the salad on the side consisted of tomatoes fresh from our garden and those heirloom peppers that I'd roasted, so I guess I'll take a teensy bit of credit for that.

Anyway, every bite was was dynamite. Sometimes the quest for pie leads to something else altogether. I like it when that happens.

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