Maple Syrup Ice Cream

One of the things I'm really enjoying about our stay in Pontlevoy is our colleagues. There are two French teachers, two history teachers, an art history teacher, an English teacher, and Sami. The group ranges in age, nationality, and gender, but we seem to mesh very well. This is evinced by the social events we like to participate in: dinner at our house, drinks at someone else's house, a trip to the market, and of course, the potluck.
Last week was a potluck: everyone brought a dish according to their culinary means and abilities. There was a ton of cheese (but not too much!), too much bread, a delicious roast boar, salad, and two, no make that three desserts. And of course multiple bottles of wine. And after dinner half the group talked heavy-duty philosophy and the other half fled to the kitchen to "help with the dishes." Delightful.
So I brought two of the three desserts: my favorite apple crumble and this maple syrup ice cream.
Ah, maple syrup. It's surprisingly easy to get here, but expensive. I happen to have imported my own. I think there's about one-third of a jug left. We like pancakes. I therefore cut the recipe in half, so that I would only need one cup of precious Canadian-ness.

I always forget that ice cream takes a long time to chill. I didn't have that time, so I cooled the custard (maple syrup plus egg yolks) in an ice water bath.

One cup of maple syrup seems like a lot until you fold it into 2-1/2 cups of whipped cream!

So this was my ice cream maker. I was a bit worried about this part of it. I don't have one here, and I didn't feel like buying one for 65 Euros. So I went to my ice cream guru and found out how to do without an ice cream maker. It turns out to be easy, assuming you remember to check on your ice cream every 30 minutes. So I turned on the freezer upstairs in Claire's room, popped my pan of ice cream in...and forgot about it. For about 3 hours. When I got to it, it was frozen solid. I tried many tactics, including scraping with a fork and processing it in a food processor. Turned out that letting it thaw a bit was the best technique...huh.
Long story short: this was delicious. It's not too sweet but has nice maple-y flavor, and it went well with the crumble. Our Canadian colleague told me that it reminded her of home. The art history teacher, an 80-year-old former priest, asked me to run away with him so that I can make ice cream for him every day. And the English teacher, who has problems digesting starches, just kept dipping her spoon into the dish. Unlike my brownies, unlike my cake, there was no ice cream left over. Not a drop. Success!
Here's the recipe, if you want to get some indecent proposals...

Sugarbush Maple Ice Cream

3 egg yolks
good pinch salt
1 c. maple syrup (the darker, the better)
2-1/2 c. (20 oz.) whipping cream
1/2 t. vanilla
1/4 t. almond extract

Don't forget to get your ice cream freezer ready, if required. Put a pan of water (the bottom of a double boiler or a saucepan that your mixing bowl will fit over) over medium-low heat to simmer. Now in a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks and salt until they're thick and pale, about 5 minutes or so. Then put the maple syrup in a Pyrex measuring cup and microwave until it's just boiling--it took just about 2 minutes in mine. You'll want to watch it carefully so that it doesn't boil over. Then start beating the egg yolks again while you pour in the hot syrup in a thin, steady stream. Make sure that's all well beaten (scrape the sides), and then put the mixing bowl over the simmering water and heat, stirring, until it reaches 178 on a candy thermometer (this took me at least 10 minutes, though Maida says 5). Take the mixing bowl off the heat and somehow get the mixture cooled down completely. You could let it cool to room temperature and then refrigerate or freeze it, or you could put the bowl in a larger bowl full of ice water and cool it down that way.
Now that you feel your custard is cool enough, get ready to whip a whole lot of cream. If you have the stand mixer with the whisk attachment, get that going with all that cream, along with the vanilla and almond extracts. You want to get soft, not stiff peaks. Then gradually fold the maple custard into the whipped cream. When that's all mixed together, freeze it however your ice cream maker works. Enjoy alone, with candied nuts, or with your favorite fruit dessert.

Cristina's Brownies

Last week was busy in terms of both cooking and work. We had some of our "château" group over for dinner one night, I made couscous for all the students the next night, and made dessert for a faculty potluck the next. All this among editing clients with trying texts and difficult deadlines. It just makes me want to alliterate. And among all this came brownies and ice cream.


I made the brownies for the small group of students as a dessert. It was a large pan of brownies, but I figured, "Hey, college students! They'll eat this in no time flat!" Somehow I overestimated their appetite for brownies. Most of them, while telling me, "these are the best brownies ever!" ate TINY little pieces. One girl did what I call a "Claire": took a bite, complimented me extravagantly, and left the rest on her plate. Claire has avoided dinnertime lectures for years with this technique...
So now, I'm stuck with a whole lot of brownies. A whole lot of DELICIOUS brownies (because no matter what these students' behavior would have you think, these are awesome brownies). Brownies mocking my Lenten no-snacking, no-seconds resolve. Those brownies had to go. So I pulled a Maida Heatter: everyone who crossed my path for 24 hours got brownies. I don't know exactly how many people I gifted, but it was a lot. And then there was just a small square left. And then Sami howled with disappointment because Claire had beaten him to the Breakfast Brownie. No one will ever say I don't feed my family right!

So, the technical details of this brownie: it's a cocoa brownie, which makes it easier for me. Unsweetened chocolate is not easily available here. And I had recently made these brownies, which are quite similar. Except that Maida's brownies are over the top. Three sticks of butter. Seven eggs. A pound of walnuts. These are not brownies for the faint of heart.

Normal brownie batter barely makes it halfway up the sides of the pan. This recipe goes way up, almost to the top. It takes almost an hour to bake these babies (but it only takes about 10 minutes to put them together).

Big, thick, larger-than-life brownies. Take them away, please!

Here's the recipe. You could cut it in half if you're not planning to make friends with an entire village (or student population).

Cristina's Brownies

12 oz. butter
1-1/4 c. (3.75 oz.) unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 t. salt
Scant 3 cups (19 oz.) sugar
2 t. vanilla
7 large eggs
1-1/4 c. (6.25 oz.) flour
1 lb. walnut halves or large pieces (make sure these are fresh)

Heat the oven to 350. Get out a 13x9-inch pan and line it with foil or parchment; butter the foil/parchment. Put the butter, cocoa, and salt in a large microwave-safe bowl and microwave it about 1-1/2 minutes, until the butter is melted. Stir it carefully (the cocoa likes to fly around) until smooth. Add the sugar and then the vanilla and stir; the mixture will be grainy, but that will change. Now add the eggs one at a time, stirring just until incorporated after each. Stir in the flour and then the walnuts. Pour all that into the prepared pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour, or until a toothpick comes out not quite clean. Cool completely and then freeze for best cutting results. Cut into fairly small pieces since these are quite thick. Feeds many, many people.

Sweet Potato Pound Cake

This week I posted on Facebook how busy I was, which prompted Dad to suggest that the blog might suffer. Uh, no. I can cut a lot of corners in my life, but baking is something I almost need to do. When things get stressful--when you're contemplating a move to another country, when your child is getting ready to leave you again, when your client asks you if you could just completely rearrange a document within the next couple of hours--there's something soothing about turning butter, sugar, eggs, and flour into something completely different. So I baked this week. I waited until my most urgent project was finished, but I baked.


It was a very American cake this week. Fortunately, I bought my sweet potatoes from a different vendor this time, and they were the "normal" orange kind. I got one for the cake and one for me to eat for lunch--in Mississippi I would eat a sweet potato for lunch just about every day. Now it's an exotic treat. But hey, there are many, many food items to compensate for that. Unfortunately they're not quite as cheap and low-cal.



This is a good cake, though maybe not a great one. It's moist and dense and sweet and cinnamony, which are all good things, but there's nothing that made me go wow! And then there are the peanuts. Salted peanuts, like almond extract and Meyer's dark rum, are kind of a Maida Heatter signature ingredient. She likes them in banana bread, cookies, and in this cake. They go on the top and bottom of the cake and add some crunchiness and saltiness.



This did not go over well with my crew. We were all tasting our first slice when Sami said, "Ew! There's something salty in the cake!" The girls, meanwhile, carefully trimmed their crusts to avoid the peanuts as well--I think they objected to the texture more than the salt. Julia said that they looked pretty, though. I kind of liked them, but then again, I'm a salty-sweet-crunchy kind of girl. Ever had matzoh crack? I rest my case. And one of our friends who got a piece of this cake asked me to make it again months later.





Here's the recipe. If you like a moist, dense, sweet, cinnamony cake with a salty, crunchy exterior, go for it!

Sweet Potato Pound Cake

2/3 c. (3.2 oz.) salted peanuts, chopped very fine, divided (I imagine pecans would be good here--or even cashews)
8 oz. (2 sticks) butter
2 t. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
1 t. cinnamon
3/4 t. nutmeg
1/4 t. salt
1 t. vanilla
1 scant cup (6.5 oz.) sugar
1 scant cup (6.5 oz.) brown sugar
4 large eggs
10 oz. cooked sweet potatoes (preferably baked/microwaved), peeled and mashed
3 c. (12 oz.) sifted flour

Heat the oven to 350. Butter a Bundt pan and sprinkle in half of the peanuts. Swirl and tap them around to coat the pan; leave any remnants in the bottom of the pan.
Cream the butter with the baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt until nice and fluffy. Add the vanilla and then gradually add the sugars, beating about 5 minutes until light and fluffy. Then add the eggs one at a time, beating a minute or so after each addition. If you're using a hand mixer, your arm should be getting a pretty good workout. Now add the mashed sweet potatoes and beat until they're incorporated. Finally, mix in the flour on low speed just until it's incorporated. Pour the batter into the peanut-crusted pan and sprinkle it with the remaining peanuts. Now put the pan in the oven and let it bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes (check it after an hour--mine was done after only 1 hour). Cool on a rack for 15 minutes and then unmold onto a plate or another rack. Enjoy warm or room temperature. Julia highly recommends microwaving slices of cake on the next day.

Blackberry Pie

Wow, I've been baking a lot lately! I guess it's a combination of not much to do and many willing mouths to feed. But I love having an excuse to bake, and my physique loves that I never get more than a piece of what I've made (even though sometimes, like right now, I mourn that extra piece...). I even doubled this recipe and made two pies; still it's all gone less than 24 hours later.
On to the pie:
My ingredients. The issue with this "blackberry pie": no blackberries, fresh or frozen. They're not a terribly popular fruit over here. So I got a "cocktail des fruit rouges" (mixture of red fruits) at the store--it does actually have blackberries in it.

So I believe it's got blackberries, raspberries, black and red currants, blueberries, and cherries. This is what you'd use to make Rote Grütze, one of my favorite German desserts. If I had put this on the stove, cooked it a few minutes, and served it with vanilla sauce, that would be yummy, too. But we're making pie. Or as the cleaning lady called it, "Crumble aux fruit rouges."

My funny-looking crusts filled with yummy-looking fruit. Confession: I bought my pie crust. It was all-butter and everything, but I'm not doing that again. Another mistake: importing aluminum pie plates. We had to toss them when we were done eating the pie. Oops.

OK, now we've got massive domes of fruit and streusel waiting for the oven. Maida had me worried about mass overboiling, but it really wasn't a problem. Maybe this particular combination of fruit doesn't run as much.


This is what was left this morning. Now it's gone. Don't you wish you had just one more slice, too?

Here's the recipe for one blackberry pie.

Blackberry Pie

1 9-inch deep-dish pie crust (If you don't have a fave, you could try this one or one of these.)
2/3 c. (4.6 oz.) sugar
2 T. "Minute" tapioca
1 lb. frozen blackberries
1 tart cooking apple (Granny Smith, Pink Lady, Braeburn), peeled and diced
2 T. lemon juice (I left this out since currants are already very tart)

1/2 c. (2.5 oz.) unsifted flour (I used part whole wheat)
1/2 c. (3.5 oz.) brown sugar
1 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. nutmeg
Pinch salt (in my opinion)
3 oz. (6 T.) cold butter

Heat the oven to 350. Weight or prick your pie pastry and prebake it until golden, about 10 minutes. In the meantime, get out a large bowl and dump the frozen berries in it. Add the sugar and tapioca and toss them together. Add the apple and lemon juice and toss that in. Let that sit while you make the streusel.
Get out your food processor (or pastry cutter and bowl) and put in the flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Process/stir until mixed. Then cut the butter into small pieces and add. Pulse/cut in until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs with some visible pieces of butter.
Now put your prebaked crust onto a parchment or aluminum-lined baking sheet. Put the fruit into the crust and smooth the top. Then sprinkle it with the streusel--you may want to pack it down a bit. Finally, make a snake out of aluminum foil and use it as a pie crust guard. Now that your pie is protected from the top and the bottom, put it in the oven for an hour. When that hour is up, crank the oven up to 450, take off the pie shields, and give the pie another 8-10 minutes, until the filling is bubbly and the topping is nice and brown.
Chow down with vanilla ice cream or vanilla-flavored whipped cream. And have seconds now, before it's too late.

Pecan Sweet Potato Pound Cake

Baking American desserts in France involves a lot of obsessing on my part. Will I be able to find all the appropriate ingredients? Do I have the right equipment? Will the recipe work if I need to tweak it? Am I using the right kind of flour? Every time we go to a big store, not just the little "superette" here in town, I scour the shelves for specialty ingredients that I might need for one of the blog desserts. Right now my quest is for tapioca, but I suppose that can wait...
So the Pecan Sweet Potato Cake was a bit of a challenge for me. The pecans were not a problem, because I had imported a lot. The sweet potato turned out also to be less of a challenge than I had thought--many market vendors sell them here. I found a particular kind of coconut that is more like American sweetened coconut and less like the usual powdery unsweetened kind you get in France.

So here are all my carefully culled ingredients. Note that French sweet potatoes, like the African ones, are white rather than orange. I think they're also a bit less sweet. Not pictured here: the frosting ingredients.

Here's my pile of shredded sweet potato. Doesn't look too appetizing, does it? Fortunately, it baked up into a golden brown cake.

Oops, some of it stuck to the pan. I really should learn that you do actually have to grease a silicone pan. And note here that I made one big layer. This is supposed to be a three-layer cake, but I don't have three layer cake pans, so I made do. Sami was kind enough to split this horizontally for me so that we actually had two layers.

OK, this is my moment of glory. I was freaking out about how I would make the marshmallow frosting. I could not find any of these crucial ingredients/equipment: candy thermometer, corn syrup, cream of tartar. So I went on the Internet and did some research on 7-minute frosting, which this seemed to be, approximately. I looked here and here for the basic technique and then made it up as I went. I would have to go by time and texture rather than temperature, and I would somehow have to compensate for the lack of cream of tartar. Knowing that cream of tartar is an acid (I'm not sure where I picked that up), I squeezed the juice of half a lemon in with my egg whites, sugar, and a touch of water. Then I put my mixing bowl over a pot of simmering water, powered up the mixer, and set the timer for 5 minutes. You see the lovely results! I'm so proud.

Mmmm...cake with fluffy frosting and coconut. Does it remind you of something? Like the banana cake of a couple of months back?
This was good, but the banana cake was better. Julia, in her critique, said, "I don't see the point of the sweet potato in here. It's like a lot of these recipes, where she has you put weird ingredients in just to show you it can be done." Or something like that. An American sweet potato would probably give this more flavor, for sure. And I know that Alicia's towering three-layer delight will make my puny cake look very lame. But I'm not complaining. I got through the ingredient hurdle and the equipment hurdle and turned out a pretty darned good cake. The fact that there's only half a cake downstairs and we haven't had guests over (yet) speaks for something.

Here's the recipe. I'm going to give you the full Maida version with the candy thermometer, and then I'll try to recreate my half-assed 7-minute frosting.

Pecan Sweet Potato Pound Cake

1-1/2 c. (12 oz.) canola or salad oil (I used half melted butter)
Scant 2 c. (11 oz.) sugar
1 T. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1 t. ginger
1 t. nutmeg
4 large eggs, separated
1/4 c. boiling water
1 t. vanilla
2-1/4 c. (9 oz.) sifted flour
1 lb. sweet potatoes, peeled and shredded FINE (use the small holes on your grater)
6 oz. toasted pecans, broken in pieces (or TJ's fabulous pecan pieces)

1/3 c. apricot jam, heated and strained
7 oz. shredded coconut

Heat the oven to 350 and get out 3 8-inch layer cake pans. Butter them, line them with parchment, and butter and flour them. In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, sugar, baking powder, salt, ginger, and nutmeg (you can use your electric mixer for this, but it's really not necessary). Add the egg yolks and beat to mix. Then add the boiling water and vanilla. Fold in the flour, and then add the sweet potatoes and pecans. Beat the egg whites until you get stiff peaks, then fold them into the batter in 2-3 batches. Divide the batter among the pans and bake for 30-35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.
Let cool in the pans for about 3 minutes; turn out onto racks and let cool. While they're cooling, you can heat (microwave for about 30 seconds) and strain your jam.

Now it's time to make frosting. This is Maida's recipe, which I was unable to try. You need an accurate candy thermometer.

1-1/2 c. sugar
2/3 t. (?) cream of tartar
2/3 c. water
1/8 t. salt
5 oz. (about 5) egg whites; these can be frozen (thawed) leftover egg whites.
1 t. vanilla
1/4 t. almond extract

Put the sugar, cream of tartar, and water in a smallish saucepan over medium heat and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Cover it and let the mixture boil for 3 minutes. Then uncover and put in your candy thermometer. Let it boil without stirring until it reaches 242. While it's boiling, put your egg whites and salt in your stand mixing bowl with the whisk attachment. When the syrup reaches 236, turn on the mixer and start beating until the egg whites are stiff. Once the syrup reaches 242, keep the mixer on high and pour the syrup in a thin, steady stream over the egg whites. Keep beating for 5 minutes while the icing gets thick and stiff. Add the vanilla and almond extracts and beat another couple of minutes. OK, now get ready to ice the cake.
Put a cross-hatch of waxed paper strips on your cake plate and put layer one of cake on top of that. Spread a thin layer of jam on there, then give it a 1/2-inch layer of frosting. Put the next layer on top and repeat with the jam and icing. Once you get to the top layer, put the jam on top, but then Maida says to start with the sides and then frost the top. She's probably right. In any case, make your frosting all pretty and swirly, then get out your coconut and do your best to press coconut all over the sticky white frosting. If you're lucky like me, you'll end up with white frosting and coconut all over your hands, which you will then have to lick. Serve and enjoy your masterpiece.

Maria's Half-Assed Seven-Minute Frosting (for a small two-layer cake)

3 oz. egg whites
5 oz. sugar
Pinch salt
Juice of half a lemon
about 2 T. water
1/2 t. vanilla
Dash of almond extract

You'll need a heatproof (not plastic) mixing bowl, a saucepan that the bowl can sit over, and a hand mixer for this. Heat a few inches of water in the saucepan over medium heat. Put your egg whites, sugar, salt, lemon juice, and water in the mixing bowl. Set it over the hot water and immediately turn on the mixer to high. Set a timer for 5 minutes and keep beating. After the 5 minutes is up, take the bowl off the saucepan (careful, it's hot!), add the vanilla and almond, and continue to beat another 2 minutes. You should have a bowl full of fluffy white goodness. It crusts over pretty fast, so you'll want to frost your cake soon.

Apricot Bread Pudding

Being here in Pontlevoy is great for my baking experiments: the minute I've baked something, I can find many willing mouths to "taste-test" what I've done. I took a recent detour from Maida to make this and this (sometimes only chocolate will do). Both recipes disappeared in a flash. Sad to say, I had a hand in both disappearances.
But this bread pudding--well, I got to taste it. But that's pretty much it.


Sami and I are the Duke and Duchess of Chambord. What does that mean? Well, the Abbey has been divided up into four "houses" à la Harry Potter, and our house is Chambord. We meet with our students once a week to plan events and meals and generally discuss what it's like to live in France. And since I'm the Duchess, there are baked goods involved.
This bread pudding turned out to be perfect for our first group meeting. When I looked at the recipe, with all that cream and all those egg yolks, I knew we'd need help eating it. But I was a bit concerned that dried apricots and raisins would be "yucky" for picky college students. Never fear. When I brought it in, the students declared our house to be the best. Then they scrambled to get bowls, plates, etc. from the kitchen. Within minutes, a contented silence had fallen over the room. One girl was almost in tears as she contemplated her empty bowl. But everyone (except for Claire) was too polite to go for seconds. No problem there, either--Sami and Claire had a delicious breakfast the next morning.
This recipe is just as Maida describes--the tart apricots set off the bland, creamy custard perfectly. The almond extract adds a nice touch. And I wish I could have eaten one more piece.

Here are the ingredients. Note the size of the bread slices. I had to check on the Internet that an average slice of American white bread is about 1 to 1-1/2 ounces. Then I weighed my bread (half bakery bread and half supermarket bread, because that's what I had on hand). It was a lot more than 10 slices! Also notice that I used some "whole cream" (30%) and some "light cream" (15%). It turned out fine.

Mmmm...stacks of buttered bread. Can you tell the difference between the bakery bread and the supermarket bread?

Mid-assembly. The apricots look so nice against the white bread.

Fresh from the oven. The very brown parts are the heels of the bread. Waste not, want not.

Here's the recipe, if you've got hungry mouths to feed. Maida says it serves 8, but by my count, it served about 16.

Apricot Bread Pudding

6 oz. (generous 1/2 cup) dried apricots
1/3 c. (1.7 oz.) raisins, dark or golden
10 slices (about 12 oz.) good white bread, somewhat stale
About 3 oz. (6 T.) butter
2 c. cream (you can probably mix cream and half and half. Or just use half and half)
2 c. milk (again, you can probably adjust the fat content to your preferences)
5 large eggs plus 4 egg yolks
2 t. vanilla
1/2 t. almond extract
1/4 t. salt
1/2 c. (3.5 oz.) sugar, plus more to sprinkle

Get out a 13x9-inch baking pan (butter it) and also a larger baking pan that you can use as a bain marie (water bath). Snip the dried apricots into thin strips with scissors, then put them in a smallish bowl with the raisins. Pour boiling water over them to almost cover, cover with a plate, and let sit and soak for 20 minutes or so. In the meantime, get out the bread and butter. Butter each slice of bread fairly generously, stack the slices up, and cut them in half. When your dried fruit looks nice and plump, drain off the water. Now get out your buttered baking dish. Put in a third of the bread slices, buttered side up. Sprinkle them with the dried fruit. Repeat with another third of the bread, the rest of the dried fruit, and the rest of the bread. Maida suggests that you make sure that the top bread is arranged attractively. Maybe you shouldn't put the bread heels on top.
Now make the custard: Pour the milk and cream into a 4-cup Pyrex measure or another microwave-safe vessel. Heat for about 2-3 minutes or until steaming. In the meantime, put your eggs and egg yolks (save your egg whites in case you need to make fluffy white frosting someday...) in a large bowl and whisk them to blend. Add the vanilla, almond, salt, and 1/2 cup sugar, and then gradually whisk in the hot milk/cream. Slowly and evenly pour this mixture over the bread. Then put a piece of waxed paper or plastic wrap on top (I used parchment and the butter stuck to it) and push down the bread so that it all soaks up some custard. Let it sit at least 30 minutes; you could probably refrigerate this overnight and then bake it for a delightful breakfast.
Heat the oven to 325. Remove the paper/plastic from the pudding and sprinkle it with about 2 T. sugar. Put the baking dish in the larger pan. Put both in the oven and then VERY CAREFULLY pour hot/boiling water (I use my boiler for this) into the larger pan, avoiding the bread pudding. The water should be about an inch deep. Bake for about 40 minutes, or until a knife comes out barely dry. Serve hot or warm (or cold for breakfast). Be prepared to defend your serving (or second serving).
Maida suggests this might be served with some warm apricot jam thinned with rum or bourbon, which I did not do but would probably be delightful. If you try this, tell me about it.

If you like molasses....

. . .then you'll love Maida's Shoofly Pie. Actually, you have to LOVE molasses. I think you have to be one of those people who put molasses in your coffee instead of sugar to enjoy this pie.

The one or two followers who actually read this blog will know that there has been a trend: If Maria really doesn't like something, then it is sure that my family will. So we were kind of excited about Shoofly Pie, because Maria really didn't like it. Everytime I looked at the recipe, however, I put it off, because I couldn't imagine what there was to LIKE about this pie, other than maybe the crust. It is 1 cup of molasses and 2/3 cup of brown sugar, mixed with very little else. Sucrose Pie should be the name of it.

On my busy weekend of softball games and harmonica lessons and beautiful San Diego weather to get out and enjoy, I threw together the Shoofly Pie. It is easy to make. The crust took about 5 minutes to mix together and throw into the fridge for chilling, and another 5 minutes to roll out. It did roll out beautifully -- with no cracks or problems. This should have been an indicator to me about how bad it would be. The best pie crusts (i.e the ones that flake like crazy when you bite into the pie) are the ones that are all cracked and falling apart when you try to get them into the pie dish. And the filling was simple as . . . well . . . pie, to throw together. Maybe the phrase "simple as pie" came about from people who made Shoofly Pie -- because I can't really think of any other pie that is so simple to make. Maybe pumpkin pie.

But pumpkin pie tastes good. Shoofly Pie does not. Unless, as I stated above, you LOVE molasses. I like molasses -- I love its taste in gingerbread. But I don't LOVE molasses enough to enjoy this pie. It was so strong that it was actually spicy. It is unbelievably sweet. I could feel my glucose level spiking to unnatural levels while I was eating the pie. This is not a pie for a diabetic.

I was thinking, while I was eating this pie, about Laura Ingalls Wilder. My favorite parts of the Little House books were the parts where she talked about food. I remember all of the food things they ate. And one of the things that they lived for was sugar. They would make a trip into town to buy a small packet of white sugar, which sounded like gold back then. And for Christmas, they would get a small piece of maple sugar, which they savored like there was no tomorrow. That family would have died and gone to heaven if they had this pie.

Not so my family. Maddy really enjoys molasses -- she will eat it with a spoon. So she did enjoy this pie -- or I should say she enjoyed one tiny piece of the pie. I had a really tiny sliver of the pie, and finished Cassandra's tiny sliver. Nobody else even tried it. It is still sitting on the counter, with about 1/12 of it gone. I think it is destined for the trash unless Maddy decides to take it to school tomorrow and try to sell it to her hypoglycemic friends.

So, Maria, I agree with the title of your post: "Shoofly Pie -- Why?"