funeral food, and a recipe: lemon buttermilk pie
It took me three days to make a pie last week.
On the first day, I diced the cold, unsalted butter into cubes and stored the small nuggets of butter in a plastic container in the refrigerator. I think that was the day my sister and I went to my mom’s house to meet with the minister, to plan the details of Dad’s funeral.
On the second day, I carefully weighed the flour and measured the sugar and salt. Using the pastry cutter, I cut the butter into the flour and drizzled in ice water, finally using my hands to pull together the piecrust dough. That was the day we took Mom shopping for black dresses to wear to the funeral. The dough, in two plastic wrapped discs, waited patiently on a shelf in the refrigerator next to the bagels and cream cheese.
On the third day, I floured the large, wooden breadboard I keep stored upright in the pantry. I unwrapped the butter-speckled dough, and once it warmed up a bit, I rolled the dough into a large circle. It wasn’t a perfect circle; it never is. When the dough felt tight beneath the rolling pin, I paused and let it rest, lifting the edges to scatter a bit more flour underneath. When the dough relaxed into itself, I took the rolling pin to it again, shaping it under gentle pressure.
Pingback: Saturday Sites: Week 11 |
Pingback: Weekend links | Simple Bites
Pingback: The Merry Gourmet strawberry balsamic & black pepper sauce | the merry gourmet