butter – Page 2

Kazu’s Birthday

February 9, 2011February 14, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Kazu turned 25!

He blackmailed me on Facebook. He shamed me into making a pie for him. Plus, he re-posted my Barack Obama video a few times, so I kind of owe him. Plus, he’s kind of like my adopted Japanese little brother. I look out for him.

No I don’t.

But I would. I feed him sometimes. He likes my food.

We got a little playful this time around. Kazu has a delightfully free spirit, and it’s contagious. We got a little carried away.

I’ve never done a chocolate banana cream pie before. That makes me a dummy, because as you can imagine, it’s amazing.

Just trust me. I know this picture looks like a dump you might take after a barbecue where you had too much Keystone, pulled pork, and Mexican corn on the cob. But just trust me. This pie is, well… the shit.

I sliced the bananas really thin. I wanted the layers of hand made chocolate custard and bananas to get sort of confused with each other. Like the stagehands must feel – every night – at Spider Man Turn Off the Dark. Don’t click that link.

I told you not to. It’s a horrible website. 65. Million. Dollars. Folks.

Uhhhh…

Well like I said, things got carried away.

Yes. I know what this looks like: An Easter chocolate version of Bunnicula bit me on the face.

Yes. I know what it also looks like: I was changing a particularly messy diaper and didn’t notice the shit on my face yet.

It was around this time of the evening I decided that this blog entry was going to be full of shit jokes. What? Oh, you’re sweet. You’re welcome for all the shit jokes. It’s no less than you deserve.

Sidebar: They’ve just gotten L.A.’D

L.A.’D. L.A.’D… L – A -I – D They’ve just gotten laid!

AH – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HA….

HA. Ah, heh… ha. ha.

Asshole.

Back to the pie!

I’m not going to tell you the recipe for this one. I haven’t perfected it yet. Plus, part of the fun of learning how to cook is doing your own research.

But here’s HOW I made it.

I baked the crust, duh. then i let the crust cool. Then i made some custard. Just regular vanilla custard. Except that, during the milk simmering phase of the custard I melted chocolate into the milk during the two minutes you’re supposed to simmer it. Don’t ask me how much. I don’t know.

For me, the crust is always very precisely measured, but the fillings I FREQUENTLY eyeball. I’m a renegade like that.

At heart, I’m probably more of a cook than a baker.

Kazu and i took some of our clothes off while we were baking and had fun with the camera. It was all very innocent. Except when it wasn’t.

Yes. Then we made out afterward. Do i have to draw you a picture?

Enjoy the voyeurism, jerks.

Old Ladies on the Bus

January 28, 2011January 29, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

BLIZZARD!!!

A blizzard can mean only one thing: I’m not going to bake a damn pie because I can’t get to the store.

Also: I’m going to take the bus to the bank tomorrow. Those are the things a blizzard means.

This is not to say that I won’t bake SOMETHING, so stop hyperventilating, okay?

Seriously.

You need to get an inhaler or something. That sounds like asthma, or a severe smokers cough.

Well, see a doctor, anyway? Oh I DON’T? I sleep next to you! I should know what a death rattle sounds like.

Okay, you know what? I’m trying to blog right now. I’m not going to ARGUE WITH YOU. Because. You’re IMAGINARY!!!

I’m sorry. I know that’s not playing fair. I’m sorry. Yes. I know it’s not fair to create you as a narrative device for my blog and then resent you. Okay. You’re right. CAN WE MOVE ON?

Thank you. Where was I? Oh, yes. Taking the bus.

Beware, intrepid New Yorkers. Beware the bus. It’s a great mode of transport and everything. It works well, and it tends to run on schedule, as far as my experience has shown me. But at least be aware. You’re entering the territory of the Old Bus Lady. You might notice that I’m getting a confused look. It not because I’m covertly photographing them. Old Bus Ladies love to be photographed. And anyway, they didn’t notice. What they DID notice is that i sat in the first six seats. They DID NOT like that. There’s a sign! It says, please give this seat up to Old Bus Ladies! Boy. There was a big to-do about me sitting there. I should mention that we were the only people on the bus. Old Bus Lady! You’re so silly!

But I respect your territory and pretend I’m Polish.

What’s creepier than Old Bus Ladies on a Wednesday afternoon?

Nothing.

But finding ripe, cheap blueberries that taste good in the dead of winter can run a close second. It really creeps me out. But what could i do? It was more than a pint for less than 5 bucks. Had to take the mutant hot-house blueberries.

I didn’t have the ingredients to make a pie, so I whipped up some blueberry quickbread for myself and a friend who came to visit.

This was after enduring the outrage and scorn of the ancient Italian Old Bus Ladies. One of them made deep eye contact and whispered ‘Thinner!!!!” Right as I left the bus. Haven’t felt exactly myself since, but I’ve dropped 10 lbs in two days…

People are calling it the SNOWPOCALYPSE and SNOWMAGEDDON and SNOWLOCAUST.

People are being dramatic. People LOVE to be dramatic. Look at the media. They can take a phrase like ‘health care reform’ and change it around to read ‘death squads.’ Ta da!

That’s called ‘pushing paper’ in the journalism biz. You take the most dramatic, most terrifying angle on something and then act like your hare brained half-theory is FACT.

Watch – I’ll show you how it’s done:

Look at this! Amid all the warnings about white flour and fat and an ever expanding, girthy America – SOMEONE is making duck fat and heavy cream gravy to go atop buttermilk biscuits.

Why would he ever serve that to a guest? No one can know for sure, but here’s a theory: He wants to clog the arteries of his young guest because he’s jealous of him – his beauty, his youth, his energy and light-hearted verve.

What a bitter aging fairy – making a sludge filled breakfast of biscuits and gravy!

See. I just sensationalized it! That’s called ‘being a good journalist.’ But don’t blame the journalists. They’re just putting food on the table. Blame yourself. You’re the one reading it.

Wow. Tangent.

This is not on the floor. It’s cooling on a metal stool.

It only looks like it’s on the floor.

So,The next morning I made these puppies. Look at them. They were quick and easy and full of butter and buttermilk.

I learned a lot on my trip to the bank and the fruit market. I learned that Old Bus Ladies are not to be trifled with. They’ve lived longer than you, they know more about the world. Some of it good, some bad. They can put a gypsy curse on you.

They’ve worked hard to raise their children and slowly poison their husbands with butter and sour cream and whole milk and flour and heavy cream and lard and duck fat and other mysterious poisons like anti-freeze.

And sometimes, fags – sometimes you gotta respect that. Sometimes you have to move to the back of the bus, like Rosa wouldn’t, even if there’s nobody else on the bus.

At least, until you’re an Old Bus Lady yourself.

God willing.

Enjoy the Blueberry Quick Bread and Biscuits and Duckfat Buttermilk gravy, jerks!!

BD 11

January 3, 2011June 30, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Pie, Uncategorized

Don’t touch that. Just don’t! Because I said so. Now you’re rubbing your eye. Now you’re sneezing and crying. BECAUSE, DUMMY. It’s not cinnamon – it’s cayenne pepper. I told you not to touch it. It’s going into my next set of pies. Specifically, I’m whisking it into the flour before I cut the fat into the crust.

You can’t see it but it’s in there. There’s cayenne pepper and cinnamon. It’s mostly invisible – like Mary Kate Olsen. Or Ashley. Whichever is the one who doesn’t ever eat.

OH? Both of them? Really?

Do you KNOW that, or are you just spreading rumors?

Then shut up, this is my blogging time.

I was asked to another fancy party, and I’m making a pie. What’s going on with my calendar this holiday season? Not that I’m complaining. It beats ringing in the new year with the Sissor Sisters at Metropolitan Bar. No, I’m totally excited to go to the home of a well connected Asian American Broadway Legend and TV star. Look, I’m not going to spell it out for you, mostly because I forgot to ask permission to use his name on my website. But, piece it together, dummy.

MMMMMMMMM! BUTTERFLIES!!!

So it’s going to be a Mexican Silk pie. I took the traditional French Silk recipe and made some minor changes. Along with the crust, laden with cinnamon and cayenne – I’m adding Smoked Hungarian Paprika to the chocolate filling. I want it to be smoky, chocolaty, and spicy – like a Mexican Hot Chocolate.

Once I had a ‘Mexican Hot Chocolate’ during spring break at South of the Border. You know what? I’m not going to tell that story right now, because I realize that I’m using the phrase euphemistically to describe a sex act with a certain equine barnyard animal. The point is, I’ll never take mushrooms again.

Also, if you see a half human, half donkey from Mexico looking for his father – you never met me. Got it?

There were no mushrooms in this pie, just chocolate, eggs, butter, and sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. And that Hungarian Paprika. I know, it sounds weird right? It was actually really good. Like, so so good. And you have to realize – there were wealthy New Yorkers there! You can’t serve them DINER FRENCH SILK PIE!!! You have to serve them something crazy that sounds like garbage, but is really quite elegant. There’s no cooking in NY anymore without being an insufferable foodie. Insufferable,I said. INSUFFERABLE!!!!! WELL THEN COME OUT OF THE BATHROOM AND SHUT THE SINK OFF, DUMMY.

Sheesh… Okay. So. This guy on the billboard?

This is Daniel K. Isaac.

He’s a nice guy. He’s the one that invited me to the party.

What? Yeah I GUESS he’s good looking, if you like tall dark and super cute.

I guess so? I never thought about it. Okay. Yes. He’s handsome. Anyway… YES. HE’S VERY GOOD LOOKING. CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION BACK PLEASE??? Lordy. You’re unfocused today.

Okay so I topped the pie with whipped cream, and white/dark chocolate fragments. It was supposed to look like confetti, for New Years. What? Yes, I suppose it was a little ‘on the nose.’ Thanks for pointing that out. Jerk.

On top of the confetti, I made pie crust ‘cookies.’ They’re covered with dark and white chocolate.

What? It’s an 11. Stop gaslighting me.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse in which false information is presented to the victim with the intent of making them doubt their own memory and perception.

Oh yeah, this is Jon Norman Schneider. I know, super cute, right? I have to mention that he was a huge help with the pie, and designed the typography for the 11 that you were just being so snide about. What? I guess so… I never thought about it. Yeah, I guess he IS a hottie. Pay attention. YES. I AGREE. HE’S VERY GOOD LOOKING!!! CAN WE MOVE ON???

Sheesh… Jon is a talented actor and has ruined many shows up and down the east coast and really, all over the country. He continues to book film and tv work. Look for him in the upcoming Bryan Greenberg movie The Normals. He ruins it by playing a weirdo. (He doesn’t ruin anything – he’s great. AND hold on to your hats, ladies – he remains unmarried)

There were a lot of unmarried men at this party. A LOT. Do I have to draw you a picture?

Hm… Okay… When two men love each other very much, and have been dating for a significant amount of… never mind. Just leave it in the same head space as the Mexican Hot Chocolate comment.

I mean. Some of the people in this photo HAVE to be women, right?

Somewhere in there?

Right?

Okay. This blog entry is getting out of hand. I’m going to have to lay down the LAW with you guys AND establish some ORDER. What? I said I’m going to have to… just turn the sink off and come out of the bathroom, will you? No? Okay, then I’m not telling you whose party it was. No. I’m not. I’m ending the blog entry. Yes. I am.

Happy New Year, jerks!