When in doubt - post a recipe, and think chocolate. I believe credit goes to Southern Living magazine for this version. You can't go wrong a pie recipe from the steel magnolias - this one has a traditional pudding-style filling.
Old-Fashioned Chocolate Cream Pie
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa (Dutch-process preferred)
1/4 cup plus 2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon salt
3 egg yolks, beaten
3 cups milk
1-1/2 tablespoons butter (real butter, please)
1-1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 baked 9-inch pastry shell
3/4 cup whipping cream
1-2 tablespoons sugar (to taste)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Combine sugar, cornstarch, cocoa and salt in a heavy saucepan; stir well. Combine egg yolks and milk and gradually stir into sugar mixture. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens and boils. Boil one minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; stir in butter and vanilla. Immediately pour custard into pie shell. Cover custard with waxed paper (press directly onto mixture). Cool 30 minutes at room temperature then chill overnight.
Beat whipping cream, sugar and vanilla until soft peaks form - spread over chilled pie filling.
(Corrected to omit bananas in original post - don't ask!)
I recall a couple of friends who live south of the U.S. and north of the "Cone" wanted some decent instructions on making a pie crust. I think I have found a decent series of videos about the process: Secrets of Great Pie Crusts. Your host is a Southern woman , so she includes hints on how to deal with your local humidity and heat. You will need some simple tools and equipment, but the process is shown without using a food processor (unlike many of the "gourmet" food site video selections).
14 comments:
"Immediately pour custard over bananas in pie shell." Lynn
okey, dokey, where's them nanners in the ingredients list???
sounds good!! yummmmmm!
Since I cannot make a pie crust to "save my episcopal soul" I will simply add this:
Don McClean
American Pie
A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
So bye-bye, miss american pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.
I started singin’,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from james dean
And a voice that came from you and me,
Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while lennon read a book of marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.
We were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
We started singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
He was singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.
And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.
And they were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."
They were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."
Fred,
Or...(second reprise)...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GB0f47BMak
I can't make pie crust either.
:)
This blog gives me hope and reconfirms my belief in the bigger picture...where is Dahveed when we need additional drooling?
anon who probably isn't anonymous -
thanks for finding that banana notation in the recipe. About three bananas, thinly sliced, is probably what would work for a banana split pie!
Leonardo, hello! Now, how would I have guessed it would be homemade pie that brought you here! Welcome home, hope you had a good trip north. :-)
Lynn,
Okay, now you've done it. It is now time to consider a posting that will collect recipes from everyone and anyone and evnetually put them into a pdf format for everyone to printout and call it some name. We could do two things here. First, run the recipes and allow eveyrone to contribute for say a fortnight or maybe two weeks or more. At the same time run a contest to name the book. I would certainly be more than happy to help.
What say ye Julia Child of the blogs?
Fred - I was wondering how we might be able to use this venue to collect recipes...and yes, a contest to name the collection! Now that's what I call a church cookbook.
I was looking a new templates, bet there's a way to organize it with a better interface. Hmm.
Do you have a full version of Adobe Acrobat?
I can get a ed copy so it won't cost too much. Be happyto do so. I think it would be fun. Certainly distracting (pleasantly so) during the great confab!
Fred,
You may like this rendition, which we wrote at Jake's in may, 2007, shortly after the Primates' Meeting in Tanzania:
Anglican Pie
A long, long time ago,
I can still remember
How the bishops used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those bishops dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But the Global Primates made me shiver
With every paper they’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about the Primates' pride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the Communion died.
So bye-bye, bitter Anglican pie.
Took my mitre to the River,
But the Thames, it was dry.
And good old bishops drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that we die.
This’ll be the day that we die."
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in unity,
Can bishops set your soul free,
And can you teach me how to lead real slow?
Well, I know that you’re in love with him
making bishops' faces look quite grim.
From the closet you both leapt.
In their chambers bishops wept.
I was a lonely gay man in the pew
With a prayer book and hymnal, both brand new
But those coming out were just too few
The day the Communion died.
I started singin',
bye-bye, bitter Anglican pie.
Took my mitre to the River,
But the Thames, it was dry.
And good old bishops drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that we die.
This’ll be the day that we die."
Now for two hundred years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When Cantaur spoke from the Primates' floor,
In a cope he borrowed from John Moore
And a voice that left out you and me,
Oh, and while Cantuar was looking down,
Nigeria stole his pointy crown.
The meeting was adjourned;
A harsh verdict was returned.
And while Katharine offered words of grace,
The bishops gathered in one place,
And they said "No!" to Cantuar's face
The day the Communion died.
We were singing,
bye-bye, bitter Anglican pie.
Took my mitre to the River,
But the Thames, it was dry.
And good old bishops drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that we die.
This’ll be the day that we die."
Helter skelter in the coming summer swelter.
Schismatics flew off to a CANA shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With Cantuar on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the spring-time air was sweet perfume
While the bishops played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the Primates tried to take the field;
The House of Bishops refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the Communion died?
We started singing,
bye-bye, bitter Anglican pie.
Took my mitre to the River,
But the Thames, it was dry.
And good old bishops drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that we die.
This’ll be the day that we die."
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A whole Communion lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: Cantuar be nimble, Cantuar be quick!
Cantuar give Peter a swift kick
Cause schism is the devil’s only friend.
Oh, and as I watched Abuja on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as their hands climbed high into the night
To celebrate their schismatic rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the Communion died
He was singing,
bye-bye, bitter Anglican pie.
Took my mitre to the River,
But the Thames, it was dry.
And good old bishops drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that we die.
This’ll be the day that we die."
I met a Primate who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the good news years before,
But the man there said the news wouldn’t play.
And in the pews, the people screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the Communion died.
J.
Leonardo,
You can find Dah-veed at "The Three Legged Stool":
http://threelegedstool.blogspot.com/
{{{Jake}}}
Speaking of pies, when I visit los estados unidos de américa, my friends and family all give me rhubarb pie, 'cuz I can't get it here in Panamá. However, by the end of my visit, I'm kinda glad I can't get it here, as I have had too much.
As far as bananas in that recipe are concerned, only Leonardo and I can get bananas worth eating. Guineos primitivos, or what we called King Bananas back home on Okinawa, are the tastiest and best bananas. However, ripe Panamanian Cavendish bananas are delicious, too. You folks in EEUU only get green Ecuadorian bananas. ¡Qué lástima!
I've been SAVED!
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