Category Archives: Sweet

Granny’s Chocolate Pie

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This is one of my granny’s specialties.

My granny is a great baker and while the rest of my family thinks her pecan pie and her butterscotch pie are unrivaled, I would take her chocolate pie over those two any day.

She makes a chocolate pie every time I come to visit and I always look forward to it.  There’s just nothing else quite like it.

When I make her chocolate pie, I ignore the meringue because that just dilutes the wonderful, rich chocolate.  But for those who are serious about pretty pies, I have included the meringue in the recipe.

While the pie is not that hard to make, there are a few tricks that are critical.  It just so happens that these tricks are not listed in my granny’s recipe as submitted to a local cookbook.  Though some people leave out ingredients and steps so no one can steal their thunder, I don’t think this was intentional on my granny’s part.  She has just made this pie so many times in her life that I bet she didn’t even realize some of the things that she does that make it just so.

Consequently, I had to make the pie with her several times before I had all of the right steps and ingredients.  I have notes scribbled all over the recipe in the cookbook.  One thing that she does is make 1 ½ times the recipe ingredients for a fuller pie.  So, for the sake of simplicity, I have listed the ingredients as she and I always make them instead of trying to remember to multiply all of the measurements by 1 ½.  Brilliant, right?

She taught me to make this pie several years ago and then she later taught my cousin.  Wouldn’t you know that she has changed the recipe in the last year?

She added cornstarch, which I think makes it too thick and robs it of its velvety goodness.  Apparently, there is also cream of tartar and marshmallow fluff in the meringue. This was news to me, but I don’t make the meringue anyway, so I’m not going to get all worked up about it.

Here is what you will need:

Ingredients:

9” pie crust

1 ½ cups sugar

3 ½ tbsp. all-purpose flour

1 ½ cups milk (best made with whole milk)

4 ½ tbsp. cocoa powder

Smidgen of salt

5 eggs, separated

2 tbsp. butter

1 tsp. vanilla

Pinch of cream of tartar

3 tbsp. marshmallow creme

I forgot to pull out the marshmallow creme for the picture.  Sorry about that.  Also, the sugar and flour seem to be a little shy as they hide behind the cornstarch that I would recommend you not use.  I should also note at this point that my granny does not put any salt in the pie, but I feel like just the tiniest amount really boosts the chocolate-y-ness.

So, here we go:

Bake off the pie shell according to the package instructions.  Or, if you would like to blind bake a homemade crust, knock yourself out.

Meanwhile, combine dry ingredients in the pot that will be the top half of your double boiler.

Separate eggs.  Set egg whites aside for meringue.

Combine half of milk and yolks…

…and whisk until completely incorporated (i.e. no yolk bits that could cause lumps in the pie.  Your granny will be very upset if you are not careful about this. Trust me, I speak from experience.)

Now here is some tricky business that my granny does not have written down anywhere, but it is the secret to having a smooth pie filling: pour egg and milk mixture through a strainer into dry mixture.

Because we told Granny to sit down as we prepared the pie so we could try to make it ourselves, there was a lot of back seat driving.  Apparently, we weren’t straining the eggs correctly…..but the pie turned out fine.

Assure your grandma that you’ve got things under control and then add the other half of the milk through the strainer.

And then give it a big ol’ stir to let the ingredients get to know each other.

Then put the mixture on the stove and stir. I should mention that my granny has a bizarre pot (pictured) that I believe was once part of a pressure cooker that somehow functions similarly to a double boiler so we always use this to make pie fillings.  One less thing to clean.

Now, you may want to start out with a whisk to make sure all of the ingredients incorporate, but then switch to a spoon and stir the mixture over medium-low heat constantly until the mixture has thickened.  Be sure to scrape the bottom of the pot gently so thickened parts don’t stick to the bottom of the pot and burn.

If you are impatient when it comes to eating chocolate like I am, you may think the filling is done when the mixture has a little bit of body to it, but you would be incorrect.  The mixture is not adequately thickened until you can see the bottom of the pot for a few seconds in the wake of your spoon when you scrape it against the pot.

As the mixture begins to thicken, you may add the butter and vanilla for a nice touch of richness because the chocolate is not rich enough already. Ha.

Continue cooking until the mixture achieves the viscosity described above.

Let cool a bit and then pour into baked pie shell.

Let pie cool completely before preparing meringue.  Or just let it cool until it’s just warm and eat a slice without any of that silly meringue.  Suit yourself.

Please lick the pot as you wait. It would be a sin to let any chocolate go to waste.

My cousins, sister and I have licked many a chocolate pie pot in our days.  We were caught chocolate-handedwhen this photo was taken a few years ago.

If you elect to make a sky-high meringue as my cousin Lauren did, beat the egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar on high until they form peaks when you pull the whisk out.  Then, add marshmallow creme 1 tablespoon at a time.

I forgot to take a picture of this step because I was still licking the pot.

Next, using a spatula, make your meringue real purty on the pie.  Then bake it in a 400 degree oven until the meringue peaks start to brown.

Let pie cool and then devour.

Even though I promptly slid the meringue off my pie when I ate a piece, I have to admit that my cousin did a lovely job with the meringue.

Please enjoy.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

Driving to Burkesville

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Welcome to Cumberland County.

This is my (very dirty) car, Chino, sitting in my grandparents’ driveway in Kentucky.

Why is this noteworthy?

Well, let me tell you.

I’ve never been able to just drive to my grandparents’ houses in Burkesville, Kentucky.  Having lived in the Northeast and about 1000 miles from my grandparents my whole life, any visit involved at least one plane ride (usually 2) and then a 2 ½ hour drive from the airport in either Louisville or Nashville to rural Kentucky.

Now that I live in Nashville, I can drive up to visit and be there in 2 ½ hours.  It’s glorious.

The blue Jeep, Azul, is my cousin Lauren’s.  Since this is Chino’s first time in Kentucky, he and Azul had never met and they are just tickled to death (a favorite Southern saying) to finally be together as family.

Naturally, as soon as I arrived in Burkesville, we had to eat.  We went to one of my favorite little spots on the square in town: Annie Ruby’s.

Now, Annie Ruby’s is in the location that was formerly Smith Pharmacy.  My papa thinks it had been open since the town was founded in 1810.  He said that when he was little a single ice cream cone was a nickel and a double was 10 cents.  My parents used to go there as kids for ice cream and orangeades, which they could purchase for something like a quarter. This was pretty amazing (even back then) since it took 2 fresh, sweet oranges to produce enough juice for this specialty.

My cousins, sister and I had a summer ritual at Smith Pharmacy when we were growing up where we would go sit at the old-timey fountain and order coke floats after a long day in the office (more on this later).  They had the BEST old school vanilla ice cream that was sort of a creamy yellow and then they would pour over the fountain coke to create the perfect ice cream to coke ratio.  This sounds pretty basic, but there’s quite an art to making a coke float.  Trust me, I’m a coke float connoisseur.

While we were devastated when Smith’s pharmacy went out a little while back, we were so excited to learn that Annie Ruby’s would be opening with good food and with the fountain.  It’s the same fountain that was in Smith’s and they do a darn good job with the coke float.  Their curry chicken salad is also pretty delicious if you want something to go with that coke float.  Actually, maybe eat the sandwich first and then savor the coke float.

Annie Ruby’s is known for “tomato pie,” which I’m sure is delightful, but unfortunately I’m some sort of genetic mutant and do not like tomatoes.  As my granny says, “what a shame” because my papa grows a whole mess of tomatoes that the rest of my family lives for.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve worked up a craving for a coke float.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

Packages

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I love putting together packages for people, especially when it is not for a special occasion, but rather to say “thank you” or “I’m thinking of you” or “I hope you feel better” or “congratulations” or “happy Tuesday” or “I think you’re alright”.

One of my favorite things to wrap up is food, which is no surprise because I love food.  Mostly I love the eating of it, but I do like to bake and cook as well.

So what better way to combine my passions than to bake something, do some heavy sampling (just for the safety of its recipients, of course), and then wrap it up with some cellophane, a pretty bow and a tag.

I’m also a huge fan of making gift baskets filled with mason jars of soups and such because they exude a homemade vibe, are timeless, very durable and also reusable for years and years.   In summary, they are very pretty and practical (and I’m slightly obsessed).

This morning I baked some peanut butter chocolate chip cookies for a “thank you for inviting me to supper” package.  I intended to capture the step-by-step preparation of these lovely things with my camera to include a recipe, but realized as I was adding the last ingredient that I forgot to take pictures.  I will try to do better next time.

Here are the cookies as they cool on the baking sheet for a moment:

And here they are all wrapped up purty-like:

In addition to making the package look nice, I always like to put a little tag or sticker (handwritten for a nice homemade touch) to inform the recipients of what they are about to put in their mouths.  I do this especially when there are controversial ingredients such as peanut butter, nuts, or oatmeal.  I might even add raisins to that list because I can’t tell you how many times I have bitten into a cookie thinking it was chocolate chip (my favorite) and quickly discovered that it was some sort of devilish raisin nonsense (my not favorite).

It is my conviction that cookies shall not contain raisins just as cornbread shall not contain sugar.  Amen.

Now that we have that settled, I will get back to the point.

Even though I love putting together an unexpected package, I do enjoy wrapping up gift boxes for holidays, birthdays and other occasions.  Here’s a gift I wrapped recently for a friend’s birthday:

I found the peacock paper at Homegoods and the ribbon I ordered from the ribbon factory.  While a great paper sets the tone, I think a nice, sharp bow really finishes a beautiful present.  I learned this from my Aunt Anna, who was the queen of gift-wrapping.

My Aunt Anna (we called her “A-Nana” which I will explain in a future post) passed away in early 2011, but she was quite the gift-wrapper.  She always wrapped gifts in beautiful paper with big bows and, for Christmas, she often added a little ornament or accessory to the bow.  These packages were so beautiful that you almost didn’t want to unwrap them.  I said almost.  There was always a thoughtful gift inside, so you had to unwrap it.

To have your wrapping likened to Aunt Anna’s is a big honor and level of distinction in our family.  You have arrived on the wrapping scene if some says your gift-wrapping work looks like “An Aunt Anna Package.”   Over the last few years, a few people have received this praise and we continue this tradition of wrapping excellence in her memory.

I love you and miss you, Aunt Anna.  You were such an elegant lady who did everything with great care.  You are an inspiration to me and I think of you every time I wrap a package.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

Hello, Nashville!

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Hello, Nashville!

19 driving hours, 1150 miles and 8 states later, Amarillo, my mom, my dad, Gus, Scarlett and I arrived in my new hometown of Nashville, Tennessee.   My dear mom and dad, as well as Amarillo (my moving truck that I grew attached to) were along for the journey to help me move.

Although my cat Gus meowed constantly for about an hour straight after we left, the cats traveled much better than I thought they would.  I think their pleasantness had a lot to do with my ingenious set-up for them in the back of my car.  I purchased the largest animal crate that would fit into the back of my Jeep and used the divider (intended to be used vertically) to create a mezzanine level so the cats wouldn’t be on top of each other.  Scarlett took the main floor and stretched out in the camper while Gus opted for the upper deck and was able to see out the windows and enjoy the scenery.  I realized about an hour into the trip that Gus’ blanket (“the mommy”) was outside the cage so at our first rest stop I put the blanket in his bed in the cage.  He snuggled right in and the meowing abruptly ceased.  What a weird cat.

They were much more relaxed when we were moving at a steady pace than when we were stopped.  I think the might have thought that a stop meant we had arrived at the vet’s office.   They do not like the vet.

The drive was especially beautiful in some of the states we passed through, particularly Virginia and eastern Tennessee.  This was my view for about 500 miles.  Not too shabby.

I love me some hills.

This was a very pretty sky.  I can’t remember if this was late Thursday or very early Friday.  It’s all a blur.

Here is my naked apartment right after I signed my lease and my life away.

Love the pale pink counter tops. Not.

I will be painting as soon as I have some energy after packing up, driving across the country and then unpacking my life.  Maybe I’ll feel up to it by the time my lease is up.

My seeeester, Eugene, and my cousin Lauren drove down from Lexington, Kentucky (where they both go to school with the 2012 NCAA Men’s Basketball Champions.  No big deal).

They were such great helpers and I really don’t think I could have gotten everything carried up into my 3rd floor apartment and pretty close to set up without them.  I think I’ll keep them around.  I tried to get them to stay at my apartment but they gave me some spiel about having to get back to school for class.  Lame.

Who could say no to this?

After a few hours of unpacking the truck and carrying my ridiculous amount of stuff up to my apartment on Friday, we were all starving and we went to one of my new favorite spots in Franklin called Sol.  It’s kind of funky Mexican or Mexico meets the South or something like that.   Whatever you want to call it, it is obnoxiously delicious.  We started out with some freshly made table-side guacamole.   YUM.   As our entrees were ready to be served, our waiter took the guacamole bowl and I was very displeased because I had not yet scraped the bowl clean with the homemade tortilla chips so as not to leave a morsel of deliciousness behind.

I quickly got over my outrage as soon as my dinner arrived.  I ordered one of the evening’s specials: chipotle honey pan seared salmon with herb and parmesan polenta (and some sautéed spinach that I ignored).  This was heaven on a plate.  I have a picture that will surely make you hop in your car and drive however many miles (it doesn’t matter how many) to taste a bit of this wonderfulness.

After dinner, we were all drifting off into food comas and wanted to pass out.  Eugene, Lauren and I had to make a quick trip to Walmart, however, because I had no food in the house and no couch for my sister or cousin to sleep on.  As with all Dyer Walmart trips, this was an adventure.  We were delirious at this point and must have circled the bedding department 43 times before I made up my mind on which sheet set and blanket would coordinate best with my décor (even though they were going on an air mattress).

I expected to find an air mattress in this section also, but I was informed by my cousin Lauren that such an item would actually be found in the “camping and recreation” section.  I mentioned to her that I was impressed by how well she knew the departments and that I was grateful to have her along because I never would have found it on my own.  Her response:

“Honey, I was practically raised in Walmart.”

Her parents might find this statement troubling, but I thought it was hilarious.

We got back to my apartment and Lauren blew up the air mattress (inflated it, rather.  She didn’t explode it.  That would have been real bad).  And then we all passed out at the thought of more unpacking the next day.

More to come.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

Scarlett

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This is my cat Scarlett.

She’s a piece of work.

She is a tad smarter than my cat Gus and knows when she is being bad but goes on doing whatever she pleases anyway. What a punk.

She is nosy on a clinical level, which leads me to believe she is half raccoon.  She would prefer to spend her days making bird noises (strange, given she’s a CAT), rummaging through small waste baskets (thus leaving a crime scene on the floor) and dragging food scraps out of a sink of dirty dishes.  So far, my attempts to discipline her have been unsuccessful.  If her behavior gets any worse, I am threatening to send her to a feline correctional facility.  Here’s how she feels about that (note: photo taken after an altercation with the vacuum hose, her nemesis):

Here’s a mug shot from her previous offenses:

When I catch her in the act, she runs and hides, though she could use a lesson on being stealthy.

She also insists on sitting on/getting in any item you place on the floor (even if it’s a scrap of paper and especially if it is a box/bag/large purse).

Even though she’s a little rascal, I keep her around because she provides excellent tech support.

And, sometimes she just kills me with that little puddin’ face.

She wouldn’t want me to give you the impression that she’s really a big softie at heart so here is a much more regal shot from her linkedin profile:

She’s a mess but I love her.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

P.S.  Most of these photos were taken before I got my new camera so I apologize if they look as if they were taken underwater.  I assure you that they were not because Scarlett HATES baths/anything to do with a large quantity of water.

Gus

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This is my cat Gus.

He is not normal.

I think the root of the problem is that he missed the memo that he is a cat.

He behaves like a puppy/small infant/possum.

He leads a life of leisure (understatement).

When he is hungry (which is every 20 minutes) he will chase you around, meowing pitifully in several different keys until you feed him savory salmon morsels.  If you happen to be seated, he will either sit in the floor in front of you and burn a hole through your laptop/reading material with his stare (pictured below) OR circle you like a shark, walking up the arm of the chair, around the back and down the other side and round and round again, all the time purring on maximum volume, until it is impossible for you to concentrate on whatever you were doing that is obviously less important than his savory salmon morsels.

After he has had a few courses of salmon, he then calms down and comes and sits/naps in my lap, looking so cute and snuggling into my arm that I am reduced to using one arm at the risk of disturbing him.  My productivity then declines. But, if I disturb him by trying to use two arms, we start the pitiful begging bit all over again and my productivity declines then also. I just can’t win. So this is how I spend my day:

Some days, when my lap just won’t cooperate, he opts to sprawl out on my desk for his nap:

I put up with his nonsense because he is the sweetest kitty and I almost lost him about a year ago.

He went into renal failure and was given a pretty grim prognosis after several days at the animal hospital.  We were told it might be a few days or a few weeks, but probably not much longer than that. We brought little Gusser home and he ate like he had been starved for months.  He gradually gained his strength back over the next couple of weeks and one year later he is a lively (and demanding) young fellow.  My little miracle cat (who may never realize he is a cat, but that’s fine with me):

When Gus was at the animal hospital, we brought him a few things from home so he would have something familiar.  We brought him his “camper” (a cat bed with a hood) to sleep in and “the mommy,” which is a cable-knit blanket with which he has developed a very special/peculiar bond.  The instant you put up your feet up on the ottoman and drape this blanket over your legs, Gus is right there, making himself comfortable on “the mommy” covering your outstretched legs.

Here he is in the “camper” on a kitchen barstool, his preferred spot when there is activity in the kitchen:

Here he is on the “mommy” on my mom(my):

What a little dumpling.

And here he is swaddled in “the mommy”:

And that is an introduction to my spoilt cat/dog/infant/possum named Gus.

More to come as his behavior reaches new levels of absurdity.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump