Who Am I?

No, this is not in reference to the movie Zoolander.  This is a real question reader.  Who am I?

I am a lot of things.  People who know me, know this.  So how do I make myself into a singular pie? That was our thought-provoking challenge this month for You Want Pies With That?, brought to us by the extremely talented Branny of Branny Boils Over.  Technically we're to: "Choose a pie that best represents your personality and use your blog write-up to justify your choice."


This left me thinking, hmmmm, tricky... but in the best of ways.  I mean there's so much to say about myself; it's not going to be easy to let the pie do the talking. And then I re-evaluated.  The pie doesn't have to be a piece for company, it just has to be a piece of me.  The result:  I've made a pie I've always wanted to make, simple and quiet looking with a deliciously bold undertone: Chocolate Ginger Ganache Pie.


Why is this pie like me?
1) I look sweet and quiet from a distance, until you realize I'm subtly spicy and sassy.
2) It's gluten and soy free, just like me (that part was easy!)
3) Two of my favorite things are chocolate and ginger.  Both are in the filling, yay.
4) It's hard to take in all at once.  I admit that sometimes I can be a bit overwhelming, just like the rich   and bold flavors in this pie.  Small doses/slices may be better until a taste is acquired ;)


I wish I were smooth and rich like this pie, but sadly I cannot claim to be either.  The pie is also super easy which is definitely not how I'd want to describe myself! (insert uncomfortable silence here, reader)

Chocolate Ginger 

Ganache Pie

(no gluten, eggs or soy here)
(those little bubbles are the pieces of ginger, yum)
 

Ingredients:

Favorite single crust pie crust, add some dried ginger and bake. (I halved the recipe here)

2 inches of fresh ginger root, peeled

24 oz chocolate (I use allergy-free Enjoy Life chips)

2 1/2 cups heavy cream

Directions:

Cool baked pie crust, dust with sugar and set aside.

Place chocolate in a heat-safe mixing bowl (like a glass pyrex bowl).

In a saucepan, soak peeled ginger in cream for at least 30 minutes.

Bring the cream to a boil, careful not to scald the cream.  

Remove from heat and remove ginger root quickly.

Pour the cream slowly over chocolate while mixing until chocolate has completely melted.
Grate some of the ginger root into the ganache, as much or as little as you'd like.

Pour ganache in cooled pie shell and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

Now the metaphors get a little complicated when you start to slice the pie and give it away to co-workers and friends.  Remind you of life a little?  But I think I'm going a little too far with that ;) Let's just say I'm proud that this pie represents me, and I'm ready to eat my personality.  (insert second uncomfortable silence here, reader)

When you're done feeling awkward about my last sentence, check out what the other amazing bakers did here.

I Roasted a Chicken and...

I didn't set fire to my kitchen, char it to inedible, poison myself, or break anything.  I know, I know- I'm pretty talented ;)

Why oh why as cooks are we intimated by random tasks?  I have a friend who is terrified of learning knife skills; she thinks its impossible.  I have another friend who never bakes because baking doesn't work for her.  I have another friend who only bakes because she "can't make anything good that isn't made of sugar."

So what's my silly thing?  I don't roast.  I don't roast anything.  On Thanksgiving I make everything on the menu- everything except the Turkey that is.  I'm terrified of not cooking meat correctly in its whole state or as a large piece.  I think this stems from very particular conversations that my mother used to have with me about cooking raw meat and all the germs and viruses that could kill you if you don't cook the meat enough.  But then again we tended to eat slightly over-cooked meat because of this fact, and because I became used to slightly over-cooking meat, I never got used to the proper way to make it tender and juicy without stewing, braising, or baking with liquid.  The result?  Roastophobia.  Well folks, Roastophobia ends now.  My Schlemmertopf killed it.

Before you say, Gesundheit, I'm sure you've seen a Schlemmertopf before. Its those giant clay bakers lurking on the top shelves of cookware stores that you're never really quite sure of.  They look like this

How did I meet my future friend?  My aunt, a fantastic cook and gardener extraordinaire purchased one some years back.  From the time I tasted the wonderful poultry she prepared for us in that crazy, clay oven, I knew one day I would have one too (thank you Sur La Table gift card.)  My Schlemmertopf killed my fear of roasting because that sucker is fool-proof; the fool in this situation would be yours truly.  Now it's true, I took the easy way out; I bought this giant clay thing because I was too chicken to roast a chicken without it BUT I would like to point out that its a very good investment.  See, what makes the Schlemmertopf system so wonderful, is that it cooks through baking and steaming the meat in its own juices.  That means you don't need oil, butter, cream or any liquids if you don't want to use them.  Health conscious, dairy free and kosher cooks unite!  This also eliminates the time-filled tradition known as the great baste walk:  the walk one does every 15-20 minutes between the oven and other parts of their house in order to baste their meats while they roast for however many hours they roast for.

Why this sudden interest in roasting meat you may ask?  Due to not being able to purchase chicken from any butcher in town because of a rise in soy feed (read all about my troubles here) I have found a couple of Grass-Fed chicken farms that sell at the local farmer's markets.  Trouble is, they only sell whole chickens.  I need to eat chicken reader; I can't only be eating red meat and cheese for protein, its just not healthy!  And thus, let the roasting begin.

First, I rinsed the chicken, pulled the skin off of it, made she it was fully gutted (gross!) and then rinsed it again.

Then I stuffed it with one white onion (cut in half), several rosemary sprigs, and a couple cloves of garlic. I salted and lightly peppered the chicken, and covered with a combo of Herbs de Provence and sweet paprika.

I also cut two large turnips in half and threw them next the chicken so they could roast up.

Then I followed the directions recommended by the manufacturer, which is placing the covered baker (prepped with a pre-soaked top) in a cold oven. For 10 minutes, you put your oven on low.  After those 10 minutes you bake at 425 F for 90 minutes.

When I removed the giant oven within an oven from my oven, I was very careful to open it away from my face, as it is propelled by a large amount of steam.

The veil of steam parted to reveal something I've never produced before:

A Perfectly Roast Chicken!!!!!

I took the turnips (which were delicious) and smashed them with some parmesan and garlic for a side dish.  The chicken fell of the bone, juicy and tender in the best and most perfect way.  I ate every part of this wonderful and simple dish.  And I plan to make all my meat in it for years to come!