A MIGHTY PIE

Despite its candy-coded name, Butterscotch Pie contains surprising depths.

by John Fladd

At its best, Thanksgiving is the most relaxing of holidays. You wake up, watch theparade, offer to help whoever is cooking the turkey – but only after you’re certain the actual work has been done – and then some sort of football-related activity, before eating a truly unconscionable amount of food.

And then there’s the reality – political arguments, the rehashing of childhood grudges, dry turkey, and judgmental relatives.

On the other hand, there is pie.

Before we talk about how excellent this pie is – and be under no illusions; it is truly outstanding – we need to talk about the pastry elephant in the room.

Pie crusts.

There is a certain type of baker – not you, of course, but somebody with unresolved pie issues from their childhood – who gets very judgmental about pie crusts. We both know who we’re talking about. [1]

Here’s the thing: If you find yourself cowed by the idea of making pie dough from scratch, and are reluctant to make a pie because of it, there is no shame in buying premade pie dough from the grocery store. None. [2]

Would you rather not have pie because it doesn’t pass some sort of virtue test, or would you like some pie? If you’re in charge of the pie this year, and buy a roll of frozen, premade dough, all you have to do is let it thaw on the counter for a few minutes, unroll it into a pie pan, crimp the edges, and get on with your life. If anyone asks you what the secret of your consistently excellent pie crust is, you can either A) hold your head high, stare them down and tell the truth, or B) answer, “Ritual sacrifice”.

Don’t let your in-laws throw shade on your pie. [3] 

Particularly if it’s a homemade butterscotch pie. This pie is deeply flavored - sweet up front, with a non-boozy hit of scotch at the end. It's an adult desert - not because of any residual alcohol, but because it has a complex flavor. It tastes as much like a butterscotch candy as a pinot noir tastes like grape soda. On a dessert sideboard, it would be between the pumpkin and chocolate cream pies, with a bowl of schlag.

BUTTERSCOTCH PIE

1 pre-baked pie shell (see above)

4½ Tablespoons butter
¾ cup (160 g) brown sugar
¾ cup (170 g) boiling water
2¼ Tablespoons cornstarch
1½ Tablespoons all-purpose flour
⅓ teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt
1¼ cups (284 g) milk
3 egg yolks, slightly beaten
1 Tablespoon scotch – I find I get the best, most butterscotchy flavor from Glenlivet

The key instruction for this recipe is “whisk.”

Melt butter over low heat, and cook to a golden brown. 

Whisk in the brown sugar. It will seem really stiff at first, but the sugar will melt within a couple of minutes and become liquidy. Whisk it continuously until it comes to a boil, then whisk in the boiling water. Be careful; it will spit a bit at first. Whisk the mixture until everything is thoroughly combined, then remove it from the heat.

Separately, whisk the cornstarch, flour, salt and milk until they are completely combined, then whisk them into the brown sugar mixture, return it to the heat, and bring it to a boil. Let it boil for a minute or so, whisking constantly, then remove it from the heat again.

Very carefully, temper in the egg yolks. This means stir a spoonful of the hot mixture into the yolks at a time, until you have gradually brought them up to temperature and diluted them enough that they won’t scramble when you add them to the hot pudding mixture.

Whisk them into the hot pudding mixture, then whisk in the scotch. Adjust theamount of whiskey to your taste.

Let the mixture cool for 20 minutes, then transfer it to a pre-baked (what bakers call “blind baked”) pie shell, then chill for several hours. Serve with whipped cream. If you wanted to add scotch to the whipped cream instead of vanilla, who could blame you?

FOOTNOTES

[1] EDITOR’S NOTE: In this part of the article John Fladd is talking about me, personally. After years of searching, I have nailed down a 3:2 butter:Crisco pie crust that works in just about every application and whenever other people take the easy way out and buy a Pillsbury ready-made crust, I judge the crap out of them. (Silently.)

[2] EDITOR’S NOTE: Well, there’s a little bit of shame. It’s not no shame.

[3] EDITOR’S NOTE: Or your newsletter editors, seriously. If you’re making homemade pie, whatever vessel it arrives in is absolutely worthy. I’m just working through a lot of personal crust-related issues and insecurities right now.