Making Pie in Canberra

L & B have a new kitchen with lots of big drawers that close automatically at the touch of a finger. There is an induction stovetop that works like magic and a new conventional oven. Sort of conventional. The lower element is hidden by the floor of the oven. L ignored the warning to avoid putting anything on the oven floor and now has strips of foil welded to the blue-black enamel. There is a Function button that allows the chef to choose from a preset menu of settings for temperature and type of cooking - grilling fish or chicken for example.

I decided that the fall apples on offer at the market would be perfect for my new apple cider pie recipe, which would give me a chance to contribute to the meals. A search for fresh apple cider yielded apple crush. The hunt for lard for the pastry was a little more difficult but finally turned up in the cooler section at a supermarket. B pointed out that it was right in front of the stock boy who had insisted that the store had no such thing and that the alternative of vegetable shortening was not available either. I found everything else that I needed in B's pantry and mixed up a batch of plain pastry. Later that day, I pared and cut the apples and then prepped the filling. That involved a bit of cooking to carmelize the cider sauce without cooking the apple chunks through. I left it to cool.

It was our first Saturday in Canberra. K's grandson Ben and his indie band, Ben Wells and the Middle Names, were playing at a small club called The Phoenix at 10:30 that night. We arrived on time but too late to get in. B begged the bouncer but he said that if he let us in there would be a riot in the line at the door. We would have had to arrive at 8:30 or 9:00 and the night was too cold and rainy for that. Not that you would know from the mini-dressed, high-heeled, giggling young women that we passed on the street. I have no issue with the fashion as it reminds me of the late '60s and early '70s. The wonder is why they don't know enough to put on a coat overtop to keep off the cold or what they are using for fuel to keep themselves warm. Ach! Old age. Anyway, we gave up, went back to the car, and went home.

So it was already 11:00 pm when I began to roll out the pastry. I lined a deep ceramic pie plate, poured in the filling, and topped it with a well-vented crust. I pinched the edge together carefully, making sure that it was sealed. Then I pressed the oven function button until it read Pastry (muffins, pie) 230 C (that's about 450 F). After 15 minutes I turned it down to 180 (~350 F) as I usually do. Fifteen minutes later it did not look as if anything was happening in the oven so I turned it back up to 230 C as per the recipe, which says to cook at that temperature for 45 minutes. I figured it needed another 30 minutes but after 15 minutes I heard a veritable roaring from the oven. I rushed into the kitchen and found the pie boiling like mad, the top crust sitting a good two inches above the pie plate, molten caramel apple filling bubbling below it.

It was midnight by this time. I ran into the lounge - "B! B!," I called softly. She was asleep in front of the TV. I ran to our bedroom - "J! J!," I called. He slept on. I ran to their bedroom. "L!," I cried, "I need help in the kitchen!" I ran back to the kitchen. He jumped out of bed and hopped through the kitchen door in his boxers. I opened the oven door. "Oven door is open!" read the oven and turned up the heat. The pie boiled higher! L reached for the pot holders. "No, no," I warned, "Don't touch it! Where is a cookie sheet?" While L found a cookie sheet, I turned off the oven and left the door open to reduce the heat. We put the tray on the lower rack, left the door ajar, and went to our respective beds.

The next morning the pie looked fine. However, all attempts to remove the final layer of baked on apple pie filling met with failure. The warning obviously means that any splashes or overflows onto this oven floor must be prevented. The next evening, surprisingly, the pie was fine. It was firm and the crust was in tact. It lifted out of the pie plate beautifully and tasted especially great with vanilla ice cream.