Pp. 665 & 680: Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

I’ve never had rhubarb before.  All of my cooking magazines tout the wonders of this celery-like fruit, but I’ve never had the opportunity to sample it.  As we entered spring (and stepped right back out of it again), I knew that as soon as I spied the distinctive red-green stalks at the farmers’ market I would scoop some up and try my hand at the quintessential spring dessert: Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.  (I figured that if I didn’t like the rhubarb, I would at least like the strawberry so the pie wouldn’t be a total loss.)

Despite my mother having made tons of pies during my childhood, pastry dough is something that I never attempted until a few years ago.  I’ve only made it two or three times and each time has proved to be enough of a challenge to make a lesser baker quit, but knowing that my mother has made likely over a hundred pies and can now whip out pastry dough like it’s no more difficult than buttered toast buoys my motivation.  If I keep making it, at some point in time it’ll turn out right.  This is what I tell myself.

Well, that time was not this time, but it did turn out passably.  The Joy’s recipe for a double crust pie is like every other pastry dough recipe I’ve encountered, except instead of using all vegetable shortening or all butter, it incorporates a combination of the two, which I liked.  I like the flavor of the butter, but it’s easier to combine the dough when you’re using shortening.  Where I usually trip up is when it comes to judging how much water to use.  Most recipes will warn against using too much, recommending only enough until the dough holds together.  I sprinkled the requisite 6 tablespoons on the dough and, when I was able to push it into a ball, I stopped and wrapped two flat discs in plastic, hoping it had been enough.

I got to chopping 2½ cups of rhubarb and strawberries each, then mixed them with sugar and cornstarch.  After letting them mingle together for 15 minutes, the sugar had leeched out the fruits’ juices and the cornstarch had turned the liquid into a thick pink sludge.  Not very appetizing in this state, but I knew that this was necessary to create a solid consistency in the finished product.

 

Next came time to roll out the dough.  Here is where I ran into my usual problems: dry, crackly dough that, no matter how much flour I used, stuck to my table.   

 

I amended the dough and my rolling technique as best as I could at that point.  First I sprinkled an extra teaspoon of water on each dough half, then sort of kneaded them with my hands to incorporate it.  Second, instead of rolling the dough on the table, I took a note from meat-pounding practices and sandwiched it between two pieces of plastic.  The plastic not only kept the dough from sticking to my table, but also from my rolling pin which meant that there was much less tearing during the rolling process.  The rolled out dough wasn’t anything to crow about, but it fit in the pan and wasn’t horribly mangled, which was good enough for me.

In went the fruit and some butter and on went the top, which I had vented with some knife slits and brushed with a little cream.  The Joy didn’t call for it, but on recommendation from my mother during my last pie making effort I covered the edges with foil to prevent over-browning for the first half of the bake.  

At first the peek of the pie at the 30-minute mark, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it did not look horrible.  I double-checked the recipe to see the lower temperature at which it was now supposed to bake and it was at this point that I noticed that the final step had been to sprinkle the top of the pie with sugar.  Oops.  I was pretty sure that omitting the step wouldn’t have affected the pie much, so I just sprinkled a few pinches on top at that point, removed the foil guards, and put it back in for another 25 minutes.  Upon final removal from the oven, I was greeted with this beauty:

Now that looks like a pie.

The recipe says to “cool completely on rack,” which I dutifully did for three-and-a-half hours, but after eating dinner I was ready to sample my handiwork.  Big mistake.  That curious sound I heard while cutting into the pie?  That was the sound of all the juices whooshing out as the crust dam was lifted.  I’m not sure what I did wrong, except not letting the pie cool long enough.  True, it was still slightly warm at that point, but the juices were so thin that I wonder if my strawberries were exceptionally juicy or if the mix needs more cornstarch than called for.

So how did the pie taste?  The rhubarb was a little bit tart, a little bit citrusy, and a little bit grassy—not like any other pie filling I’d had.  I can see why it has the devoted following it does.  Overall I’d say the pie was too sweet, but I tend not to like exceptionally sweet things and that’s an easy adjustment to make anyway.  The crust, however, despite all my problems, turned out lovely.  I’m a little bit proud of that.