Week 6 :: Appetizer (The Martyrdom of Pie)

I'm a bit of a sucker for the martyrdom of the D-I-Y movement, especially when it comes to foodstuffs that permit one to be an overzealous braggadocio when dishing out portions: for a meringue, for instance, "I whipped these egg whites by HAND. For hours. That's why one of my biceps is quite obviously larger than the other;" or for pasta, "That's freshly made ravioli; I crimped each piece of pasta INDIVIDUALLY;" or, for pie, "I made that pie crust myself. I worked the cold, cold butter into the dough, coercing it to blend harmoniously with the flour, after which I added ice water and kneaded the whole thing into doughy submission. I rolled out the dough to a perfect thickness, draped it elegantly in the ceramic pie plate, and delicately trimmed and crimped the edges."

I'm not such a food snob, however, that I will blacklist anyone for using a pre-made pie crust (or filling, for that matter). The good folks over at Tenderflake surely do know how to get all that delicious airiness into their crusts, and to be honest, I am often so distracted by the scent of caramelizing apples or bubbling cherries that I scarcely notice the odd perfection of the crust's fluting.

But now I come to my dilemma. This week, as I tried a new pie crust recipe for my quiche, I realized that I was now in possession of the "food processor" that the recipe called for. It's a small processor with a 4-cup capacity, and I wasn't honestly expecting much from it. After dumping in the flour and the cubes of cold butter, I pulsed it as directed, and much to my amazement, the butter distributed itself wonderfully and evenly throughout the flour. I eagerly added a few tablespoons of ice water, pulsed again, and lo and behold, a perfectly textured pie crust dough, ready to be rolled out on the counter with some flour.

I had a moment of looking frantically around the kitchen, thinking to myself with a note of horror, "I didn't...make this...by...hand" (as if this were some sort of really ideologically-laden impasse to get through, of course), and the twinges of guilt that I felt for having saved so much time and energy. Will my pseudo-martyrdom never cease, or is this just what happens when a former Catholic cooks in the kitchen? (5 points for my alliterations right there).

O, heavens! All I want to do this morning is bake a pie with my lovely food processor...oh the temptation of ease and modernity!