It’s one of the sweetest dessert memories from my childhood in the 60s: My mom approaching a table full of friends and family with a glistening, midnight-blue pie in her hands. Everyone who knew Judy Gewertz knew her as a baker. Her brownies were legendary. Her carrot cake still inspires demands for the recipe. But her blueberry cream cheese pie wowed everyone the minute they saw it, and prompted moans of pleasure with the first bite. This pie is as easy as it is delicious, too. No
No point in beating around the bush: This is my favorite summer pie. I know I put it in the headline, but I just needed to say it again right here. I do love the other gifts summer brings us: heaping baskets of berries, and stone fruits like apricots and plums. But no fruit is quite as grand in a pie as peaches. I’m talking about peaches the way Mother Nature intended: untouched by the heat of an oven. The thick slices, folded in a light glaze, and piled high in an already-baked golden cru
I finally got mini pies into my repertoire! It took some experimenting, but I’m delighted with the result. Aren’t they adorable? I’ve been making lots of bigger pies for years–the standard, round 9- and 10-inch ones, and even a few big rectangular “slab pies.” But all the while, I’ve been watching my fellow bakers churn out cute little individual pies. They’re so terrific, I thought; the folded-over hand pies are so easy to pick up and
They’re yummy, and they’re a modern-day classic: perfectly chewy bars in layers of graham cracker crumbs, coconut, chocolate and nuts. What do you call them? In my childhood, I knew them as Hello Dollys. Later, I heard them called by other names: seven-layer bars (when butterscotch chips were added) or magic bars. I wondered where my mom–a baker who always had something sweet ready for us–got the name “Hello Dollys.” It turns out that the name got popular in t
In honor of National Pie Day–and everyone who loves pie–I made a really big version of my Signature Tart Cherry Pie. Making a “slab pie” is a great thing to do when you’re baking for a big crowd and one 9- or 10-inch pie just won’t be enough. Bringing one slab pie is like bringing two regular round pies; for each slab pie, you use double the dough and double the filling of its traditional round cousin. These pies make a big splash when you
I’ve seen the light: You can make great pie dough in the food processor. Anyone who’s baked with me will [gasp!] to hear of my conversion. As long as I’ve been making pie, I’ve preached the wisdom of making dough completely by hand, avoiding the Cuisinart. But I’ve discovered a recipe and method that come out terrific–consistently–in the food processor. So I’ve got to share it with you. Making dough this way requires you to weigh your ingredie
You’ve got to make these crunchy, sweet, salted, mouth-warming treats. They fill your kitchen with an intoxicating aroma, and they’ll possess your friends. Really. Possess. I’ve been giving them out as holiday treats, and people have come up to me and literally grabbed my arm and said: What did you put in those? I can’t stop eating them! There have been so many demands for the recipe that I knew I had to publish it here. So: You’ve GOT to make them. They’
Let’s get this straight right up front: No one’s fooled by the name. We all know Boston Cream Pie isn’t a pie. But it’s so yummy in its creamy, cakey chocolatiness that we had to go ahead and add it to the CurvyMama lineup. We decided to give it credit for its heritage: We figure that any cake that was originally baked in pie tins is kin enough to join our little pie family. Yes! Pie tins! When the Boston Cream Pie was created in 1856, at the Parker House hotel in Bo
Poorhouse Pies Underhill, Vermont CurvyMama was dispatched to rural Vermont on a business trip recently, and she was elated because she knew there was good pie nearby. She was also happy because Daughter #2, for whom CurvyMama’s Sweetie Pie Sara was named, goes to college nearby, too. Offspring and pie in one trip! How lucky can we get? I shared a lovely dinner with Sara, and as soon as I finished my work the next day, I reached out to Jamie and Paula Eisenberg, the owners of Poorhouse Pie
It started last Christmas, with the realization that I couldn’t make it through winter without peppermint bark. You know peppermint bark, right? It’s that strangely addictive candy, hocked by Williams-Sonoma, Trader Joe’s, and other peddlers of sin: dark chocolate, layered with peppermint-infused white chocolate, and sprinkled with those red-and-white-striped peppermints, crushed into charming little slivers. Mmmm-hmmm. Yeah, that stuff. You know what I mean. So I thought IR
