Mini Cranberry Meringue Pies

I thought this recipe was from last year. The image of these cute, little, mini pies had been on my mind since last winter when I vowed to attempt them when fresh, fall cranberries came around again next time. Actually, this first appeared in Living magazine in November 2006, but it did appear again in a special holidays publication last year. I had the 06 article tucked away in my files, and I pulled it out last week to finally try this. The pasty is a citrus version of a pate sucree I've made before with the addition of lemon and blood orange zest. It occurred to me that I should make a big batch of these mini pastry shells and keep them in the freezer to use as needed. They would come in especially handy when I have some leftover pumpkin puree like I probably will later this afternoon. In this case, those handy pastry cups were filled with thickened cranberry sauce that was made in two stages. First, cranberries were cooked, and the juice was strained from the berries. Second, that juice was combined with whole cranberries to make a sweet, tart, filling with pops of flavor. Fluffy, toasted meringue topped it off.

The pate sucree was cut into four-inch circles which were crimped and fitted into twelve standard muffin cups. Each cup was lined with a small square of parchment paper, filled with weights and baked for fifteen minutes. The weights and parchment were removed, and the cups were baked for another five minutes or so. Once cool, they were ready to be filled. For the filling, first, fresh cranberries were brought to a boil with sugar and water. They were simmered until the cranberries burst and then passed through a sieve to extract the juice. The recipe states the solids should be discarded, but I'm getting more and more militant about not wasting food, so I kept the cranberry solids and enjoyed them on plain yogurt for breakfast. Next, the cranberry juice was returned to a saucepan, and sugar, lemon and blood orange zest, salt, cinnamon, cloves, and more whole cranberries were added. This time, the cranberries were cooked over a lower heat to prevent them from bursting. They should just become soft. Cornstarch was whisked into a mixture of blood orange juice and water, and that was added to the cranberries and juice to thicken it. Once cooked and cooled a bit, the filling was divided among the pastry cups, and they were chilled until set for at least an hour. Last but not least, a meringue was whipped to glossy peaks, spooned onto each mini pie, and the tops were browned under the broiler in about a minute.

While trying to get these pies done in less time than I should have planned to spend on them, the extra step of straining cranberries and then adding more whole cranberries seemed a little fussy. In the end though, I see why it mattered. The thickened juice nicely suspended the softened, whole cranberries in a way that a standard cranberry sauce would not have done. That being said, for a quicker version, a thick, sweet cranberry sauce would work fine here. Also, I'm always up for a meringue topping, but Kurt suggested that whipped cream would have been just as good. Either way, these festive, seasonal treats have earned a trip from my temporary, to-try file to my permanent, keeper file.

Blueberry Custard Pie

Imagine a tiny, little town in the middle of Illinois where the fourth of July is a really big deal and where on that day the park is filled with food stands and carnival rides and a dunk tank and the night-time fireworks show draws a crowd larger than the town’s population, and I grew up there. The fourth of July holiday was the highlight of the summer. Those food stands sold everything from fried fish sandwiches to pulled pork to soup, and pie was always served for dessert. All, or most, of the ladies in town baked pies for the various stands, and the proceeds benefitted local churches and charities. Not much has changed over the years about the celebration, but I don’t make the trip to attend very often anymore. Instead, I check in with my Mom to find out what kind of pies she’s baking and how big of a crowd is expected. She went with peach pies this year. When the day arrives, I always wish I had traveled north to join the fun. The one thing that makes it seem almost like I’m there is baking a pie, and this year’s pie is one I spotted in the March issue of Living magazine. It was presented as a raspberry custard pie, but I found local, organic blueberries and used those instead.

First, the crust was blind baked and allowed to cool. I followed the pate brisee recipe that’s included in the article, and that happens to be the pie crust recipe I use most of the time. Then, flour, sugar, an egg, and cream were whisked together. The blueberries were tossed with sugar and a small bit of salt. The berries were placed in the baked and cooled crust, and the custard was poured over top. The pie went back into the oven for 45 minutes. Once removed from the oven, it was allowed to cool on a rack, and then it was refrigerated overnight. It was simple as far as pies go. I always feel like a pie is easier than it could be when there’s no top crust.

The custard was cold, smooth, and not too rich. The berries were sweetened just enough by the sugar and custard but retained their fresh flavor. Thinking back to all those different kinds of pies at the park, I remember how they were cut into equal-sized pieces and placed on small paper plates with a plastic fork sitting right on the plate. There would be a whole long table full of pieces of various kinds of pie. There were double-crust, lattice-topped, open-faced, chocolate-cream, fruit combinations, rhubarb-studded, you name it, but I don’t recall seeing many custard pies. I told my Mom about the blueberry custard pie I baked, and she commented that it sounded great except for the blueberries. I somehow went my whole life until last weekend before learning that Mom doesn’t like blueberries. That could explain why her pies are always apple, peach, or cherry, but I think I might be able to change her mind about blueberries with this pie.

Rum Raisin Pie

One last quick post for 2008:

The end to our Christmas feast was rum raisin pie. This pie had piqued my interest back when I first got my copy of Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook, and I was glad to finally give it a try. A blind baked crust receives a scattering of golden raisins before the rum-laced custard is poured into it. It’s baked until set, allowed to cool, and then chilled before serving.

The custard was smooth and nicely flavored by dark rum. The plump raisins were chewy and delicious, and I would add more of them next time. Lightly sweetened whipped cream further gilded an already lovely dessert, and no one complained about it. In fact, there were no complaints about this dessert at all. On a day full of feasting, when dessert is still enjoyed, it must be a good one.

Happy 2009!