Blueberry Buttermilk Pie

It wasn’t until watching The Great British Baking Show that I realized that the “pie” that’s been a part of my life since my childhood is a distinctly American dessert. Sure, Europe has “pies” too, but at least half the time they’re sneaking meat or things that are almost meat into them.

And by almost meat I mean organs…kidneys, brains, intestines. I’m sorry you had to learn about that from me, but really, you’re old enough to handle it now.

In America, pies came to mean something different. A flaky pastry enclosing the regional or seasonal fruit available to you. Or a pastry cradle holding custard, nuts, molasses, you name it. They were made in a thrifty round shape in a size meant to feed a family. Pies became synonymous with family celebration. Sure, you made a cake for someone’s birthday, but when the whole fam-damily got together for Thanksgiving or Christmas, you always had a pie or five.

Pie was so important that when we ran out of ingredients, we just figured that shit out and made it happen anyway.

Enterprising cooks who couldn’t get lemons but loved lemon meringue threw down and made a damn delicious vinegar pie. No apples or peaches? How about tomato pie? Likewise, chess pie and buttermilk pies are both traditional Southern custard pies born out of a lack of the “usual” ingredients, and both are astonishingly great.

My first taste of chess pie was at Pour Richard’s in Bluffton, South Carolina, where Allie’s chocolate bourbon pecan chess pie rocked my world. It was like discovering a new country, or being the first person into space, or maybe inventing cheese.

So when I saw recipes for buttermilk pie (chess pie’s creamy cousin), I was all over it like a donkey on a waffle.

My first run at it was delicious. I used the traditional ratio of 1 cup buttermilk to 3 eggs to 1 1/4 cups sugar to 1/2 cup butter. Plus a little flour and about a cup and a half of fresh blueberries.

Pie number one.

It was a very pretty pie, and a lovely creamy custard. But it didn’t wow me. I thought, “You know what else is a custard, and does wow me? Lemon bars.” Lemon, blueberries - a beautiful combination. Therefore, I tried to bend this pie toward a lemon bar. I broke out my Ina Garten lemon bar recipe, which is completely beyond compare…and ironically, proceeded to compare it. One problem, though was that lemon bars don’t contain butter. Hmm. You know what does contain butter? Lemon curd!

Thus, armed with three recipes and three ratios, I attempted to combine them into One Pie to Rule Them All. I broke out pen and paper and got to work.

The result is a lemony custard chock full of blueberry goodness. One that wowed me. One I would be proud to share with Allie…and am also sharing with you.

Don’t thank me. Thank science.

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Shit You Need

For the crust:

This is 3:2:1 pastry dough, a classic for pies. By keeping the butter in slightly bigger flakes, you get a flaky crust. By rubbing the butter into smaller pieces, a more tender “short” crust is the result. For a par-baked single-crust pie, the shortcrust version is preferred by most people, including me (which is all that counts on this blog).

I am giving you weights in grams. If you are a regular baker, I know you have a kitchen scale, and grams just make the math easier.

1. 360 grams all-purpose flour (3 cups)

2. 1 teaspoon kosher salt

3. 2 tablespoons sugar

4. 240 grams unsalted butter, chilled. Or you can go with 170 grams butter and 70 grams shortening/lard. The use of shortening or lard is believed to make the crust a bit shorter in texture.

5. 120 grams ice-cold water (1/2 cup)

For the filling:

Let’s stick with the weight theme!

1. 300 grams sugar (1 1/2 cups)

2. 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

3. 2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest (1 - 2 lemons)

4. 40 grams flour (1/4 cup)

5. 110 grams unsalted butter, melted (1/2 cup)

6. 3 whole eggs plus one egg yolk

7. 250 grams buttermilk (one cup)

8. 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

9. 60 grams freshly squeezed lemon juice (1/4 cup, 1 1/2 to 2 lemons worth)

10. 200 grams blueberries (2 cups)

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Keep Calm and justeffingcook

Don’t be put off by the length of the directions here. Virtually all of it is about the crust. If you are a regular at making pie crust, it will be more than you need. If you’ve never made pie crust before, you may actually need to call me for a consult. I’m here for you.

Make the crust:

1. Fill a 2 cup measure with ice and add water to fill it. Give it a stir and set it aside.

2. Measure the flour, sugar, and salt into a large bowl and whisk to combine. If using a food processor, weigh the flour, sugar, and salt into a bowl, tip into your food processor, and pulse to combine.

3. Cut the butter (and shortening or lard) into 1/2 inch pieces. Do it quickly, but if you drag your feet, pop it back into the refrigerator for 15 minutes or so before adding it to the flour.

4. Next, cut the fat into the flour. If I use shortening or lard, I cut the fat into the flour in two batches: lard/shortening first, aiming for a sandy texture at the end, rather than lumpy. Then I add the butter and smush/rub/cut until I have fat lumps the size of small peas. Because I use my fingers, I do it quickly, and sometimes pop the bowl into the refrigerator at the end to let the mixture cool again. Alternatively, you can do all this with a pastry cutter.

   If using a food processor, add the fat in two batches - even if using all butter. Pulse 7 or 8 times after the first add, and 8 - 12 times after the second add, aiming for those pea sized bits at the end.

5. Make a well in the center of the mixture. (If you’ve used a food processor, empty the mixture into a mixing bowl.) Measure 1/2 cup ice water and add it all at once to the flour/butter mixture. Toss quickly with a rubber spatula, bowl scraper, or your fingers, using a light touch until the water is evenly distributed and the dough just starts to come together.

6. Dump the mixture onto a lightly floured surface (pastry stone, silpat sheet, clean countertop), and gather and press it together with your hands. Divide into 2 portions, shape each into discs, enclose in cling wrap, and refrigerate at least 1 hour.

7. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. You’re going to par-bake a crust!

8. Roll one of the discs into a circle about 1/8 inch thick. Use a floured surface, floured rollin pin, and dust the top of the dough with flour. Roll from the center outward, and flip the dough from time to time to re-flour the top and bottom.

9. Drape the dough into a 9 or 9 1/2 inch pie plate, careful not to stretch it. Shape it into the pie pan, and leave 1/2 inch overhang past the edge, trimming the excess.

10. Roll or tuck the overhang underneath itself, keeping the crust on top of the edge of the pie plate, making it less likely for the crust to slide down into the pan as it bakes.

11. Crimp the edge any way you like - I make a ruffle. Pop it into the freezer for 15 minutes, or the fridge for 30 minutes.

12. Normally, before par-baking, you prick the bottom of the crust with a fork. Here, you won’t. Any fork holes (insert joke here) will let the filling seep underneath and fork up your bottom crust (there’s the joke!)

    Instead, dust the bottom lightly with flour and press parchment paper or foil smoothly into the pie crust, making sure it’s in contact with bottom, sides, even over the edge.

13. Fill the whole thing with pie weights, beans, rice, etc. The lentils that you forgot at the back of your pantry for 5 years are an excellent choice here. But do use a generous amount, and make sure whatever you pour in there also supports the sides.

14. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from oven, carefully remove parchment or foil along with the weights, and cool.

Make the filling:

1. First, set your oven temperature to 350 degrees. Let it either preheat, or cool down if you’ve just par-baked the crust.

2. Whisk sugar, lemon zest , flour and salt together in a large bowl.

3. Add melted butter and whisk to combine.

4. Whisk in eggs, vanilla, buttermilk and lemon juice.

5. Add blueberries to the par-baked pie shell, and pour the filling on top.

6. Bake for 55- 60 minutes. Check after 45 minutes. If the crust is looking brown, add a pie shield or a ring of foil around the edge.

7. Once your filling has puffed up all around, is slightly golden, and has a slight jiggle evenly across the top, it’s finished. Let cool. A little time in the refrigerator prior to serving makes it perfect.

8. Because this is a custard pie, this needs no accompaniment like ice cream or creme anglaise. Even whipped cream might be gilding the lily a bit, but who am I to judge you?

Chile Paste Taste-off

Some are more saucey, some more pasty.

Chile paste, chile sauce, all are tasty.

Having a chile paste on hand is having a shortcut to flavor. Some are all heat. Some are heat plus. Plus garlic, plus spices, plus sugar, plus fermented soy, plus fish…if anything could possibly be considered delicious, inventive societies have added chile to it and made it into a sauce.

I have my favorites, of course. But they might be different from your favorites, and I am sure there are many that I have never tried - there are worlds of flavor out there to discover!

To start us on our journey, I assembled a small sampling of chile sauces and pastes to taste back to back. Not only did this give me a chance to discover a few new pantry staples, but it also let me compare heat levels between them, to make substitutions a little easier for you, my loyal readers (both of you).

That’s how much I care about you. (Both of you.)

If you’ve got a little free time (14 minutes), you can watch me taste them in sequence in my first ever justeffingcook video post.

Or you can read my summary below. Or just look at the pretty pictures.

Having choices rocks!

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Harissa Paste

A favorite of mine. It makes any roasted vegetable shine, is excellent in all manner of sauces, and I even enjoyed eating it straight from the jar. Aromas of toasted cumin and chile with a bracing edge. A complex flavor that includes toasted spices, chiles, tomatoes, and preserved lemon. Completely rad.

Lucius scale = 2.

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Crunchy Garlic Chili Sauce

My newest pantry staple. You need to find this and put it on everything immediately. Seriously, I can’t stress this enough. I have heard this referred to as “chile crisp” as well, so I guess look for anything with the words “crunchy” or “crispy” along with “garlic” and “chile”. This tastes like the garlic bits on an everything bagel got salted and crisped up, and then took a bath in a mild but flavorful chile oil. A+++.

Lucius scale = 2.

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Crushed Calabrian Chiles

I love these damn chiles and use them in pasta sauces constantly. Fresh, fruity, and little sweet with a smoky depth that makes me crave them again and again. The heat is mild and steady, rather than accumulating.

Lucius scale = 3.

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Sambal Olek

Please note that there are many types of Sambal, and I recommend you try as many as you can get your hands on: Sambal Matah, Sambal Ijo Padang, Sambal Terasi, Sambal Bajak, Sambal Malado. Probably more. This particular sambal is fresh, tart, and more zippy than spicy.

Lucius scale = 3.

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Gochujang

Ketchup’s more interesting and way more dangerous sister. She has serious attitude and zero tomatoes. Instead, she is made of chiles, seasonings, sweet glutinous rice, and fermented soybean paste. Gochujang is packed with layers of flavor and a shit ton of umami. I love it in spicy peanut sauce, glazes, barbecue sauces and marinades. Pictured above are two brands: one without a heat grade, and the other a “hot” version (as opposed to “mild” and “very hot”). Each had a slightly different, complex flavor profile, and both were delicious.

Lucius scale = 3 and 6, respectively.

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Szchuan Chili Sauce

Very smoky aroma from toasted spices and chiles. This sauce diverges from the rest with the addition of Sichuan pepper, which has a tongue-numbing effect along with sweetish, citrusy flavor. Added to this is an assortment of sweet spices like anise and cinnamon, and chile, of course. Complex, smoky, earthy.

Lucius scale = 4

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Ning Chi Sauce

This is a Taiwanese version of Sichuan-style chile paste. It intrigued me by being labeled as “Taiwan’s hottest chili paste”. It’s straight up Sichuan peppercorns and chile, both steeped in its carrier oil. Plus a good dose of salt. This didn’t have the almost-burnt edge that the first did, and I preferred it slightly. A solid contender for pantry shelf space.

Lucius scale = 5

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Garlic Chile Paste

Fresh, fruity chiles and sweetish (not crunchy) garlic. In contrast with the crunchy garlic sauce above, here the chile is the star and the garlic is merely a talented backup singer. Delicious, and spicy.

Lucius scale = 6

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Ning Chi “Linsanity” Sauce

I assume the printers missed an apostrophe in there, but who cares when the sauce is this delicious? And fucking hot. Simple ingredients: chile, garlic, salt and sugar, but this sauce is more than the sum of its parts. Likely started with some excellent chiles.

Lucius scale = 8

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Lee Kum Kee XO Sauce

I am most definitely a culinary tourist when it comes to adding seafood to a chile sauce. This sauce was a keeper, though. Thinly shaved strands of dried shrimp and scallop make this a pretty delicate tasting seafood sauce. Great umami and mild heat. It’s going in my next stock for ramen.

Lucius scale = 3

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VSOP Spicy Sauce

As you can probably tell from the photo, this sauce does contain fish. A little tougher for the Western palate perhaps, at least if you are going to eat it straight out of the jar, like I did. Ingredients include black beans, soy beans, anchovies, dried shrimp, garlic and ginger. This one is more about the fish than the chile.

Lucius scale = 3

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Spicy Peanut Noodles

Bright herbs and veggies on a pile of spicy noodles. Sign me up, bitches.

A century ago when I attended college, there was a little lunch place I would go to on Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz. I remember almost nothing about the place except that it had maybe three tables in the whole establishment, it was cheap, and it had noodles.

Specifically, it had spicy peanut noodles.

I was in love with those noodles and that sauce. Over the years I have tried to reproduce it - to do justice to my memory of those noodles - but couldn’t quite get it right. Then, one fateful day, I added a little gochujang to the peanut sauce. More than simply spicy, this fermented Korean chile paste has umami and tanginess and funk, and brought my peanut sauce to a whole new level.

Is this peanut sauce as good as the sauce I remember? With all due respect to my memories, it is better. Perhaps it’s the availability of ethnic pantry staples these days, or perhaps my memory isn’t as good as I thought. But damn, this is some good sauce.

Be aware, this recipe makes a large quantity. Enough for extra. Enough that you can cover a pound of noodles and have some left over. You shouldn’t need to lick it out of the blender. Shouldn’t need to...

But um, I did. I got sauce on my eyebrows. True story.

Frankly, you could slather this peanut sauce on a flip flop and chew that shit with a smile on your face. That’s how good it is.

But I suggest you do not put it on a flip flop. Put it on noodles instead. Add some julienned fresh vegetables (cucumber is a must) and some chopped cilantro and green onion. Top with some chopped peanuts. Add some shredded chicken if the spirit moves you. More sauce on top - always more sauce.

You. Will. Not. Be. Sorry.

If you are a spice junkie like me, add a drizzle of chile oil over everything. You’ll cry with heat and joy.

I could go on, but frankly, you need to stop reading and go make some fucking spicy peanut noodles.

Go.

Chicken is delicious with these noodles, but entirely optional.

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Shit You Need

For the sauce:

1. 6 ounces peanut butter. Ideally, use a “natural”, no sugar added kind. I like Santa Cruz Organics dark-roasted peanut butter. And no, I am not paid to endorse products. Unfortunately.

2. 3 ounces rice wine vinegar (feel free to substitute apple cider vinegar or white wine vinegar - both are great in this)

3. 2 ounces water

4. 3 ounces soy sauce

5. 1 ounce sweet soy sauce (if you don’t have this, add a Tbs or so of brown sugar - taste and adjust for sweetness at the end)

6. 1 1/2 ounces gochujang (If you can’t get gochujang, you can use sambal olek or another chile paste. Just back off on the amount of sambal - it’s hotter than gochujang.)

7. 1 ounce toasted sesame oil

8. 1 inch fresh ginger, peeled, sliced, crushed, and coarsely chopped

9. 3 cloves garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped

For the rest:

1. One pound spaghetti or similar thin noodles, cooked according to the package directions, drained. My gluten-free friends, this is your chance to shine. ‘Cause rice noodles are awesome with peanut sauce!

2. English cucumber (those plastic-wrapped babies at the store), cut into 2-inch julienne

3. One small carrot (green-top type, small = tender) cut into 2-inch julienne

4. Red bell pepper, julienned

5. Cilantro leaves, chopped

6. Green portion of a few scallions, sliced thin on the diagonal

7. Roasted peanuts, crushed or chopped (go for the salted kind - they add such a great burst of salty crunch)

8. Shredded chicken, optional. A great use of leftover rotisserie chicken.

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Keep Calm and justeffingcook

You notice how most of the ingredients are listed by weight? The great thing about recipes that call for a lot of ingredients to be added to one vessel is that you can stick your bowl/blender/etc on the scale, and start adding things. Just re-zero in between each addition, and there is no need to dirty a bunch of measuring cups and spoons.

1. Park your blender on your kitchen scale. Add all the sauce ingredients, zeroing after each, and blend until smooth. Taste and adjust.

2. Toss noodles with enough sauce to coat them.

3. Plate noodles, then top with carrots, red pepper, and cucumber. You could skip everything besides the cucumber -and cilantro - and be fine. Omit either and you are a monster.

4. Add a drizzle of sauce, chopped peanuts, green onion, and cilantro. Also optional: a drizzle of chile oil. Ooh yeah, baby.

Banh Mi with Seared Ahi Tuna

Seared ahi, sriracha aioli, pickled veg and fresh herbs. Traditional? No. Delicious? Hells yeah.

My daughter went to Vietnam for a school trip and came back with a love of Vietnamese cuisine. You may not find this surprising, since Vietnamese food is fucking delicious. But this girl survived on mac and cheese and chicken nuggets for nearly fifteen years, so for me, this was a delightful surprise.

Upon her return, she was flabbergasted to learn that there were Vietnamese restaurants in town! Really? How could I have hid this from her for so long? (Um, they don’t sell mac and cheese?) And then she was requesting Vietnamese food all the time. She was like a crackhead…or like a trust fund kid living next to a Louis Vuitton boutique. Take your pick.

Alas, our tour of local Viet-cuisine was cut short by the pandemic. But once I mentioned that we could make our own bahn mi, all was right with the world.

Note that we are culinary tourists here, and do not claim any sort of authenticity in this recipe. For that, plus the history of all things bahn mi, head over to Andrea Nguyen’s site, Viet World Kitchen. She is my go to for Vietnamese recipes, and is super smart and engaging to boot. 💯

My usual bahn mi filling is grilled lemongrass pork. This gets layered on a baguette with do chua (pickled carrot and daikon), fresh cilantro and cucumber, maybe some red pepper, definitely sliced jalapeño, and mayo - often blended with cilantro and hot peppers, or just with sriracha. Paté is an optional spread, and we include it from time to time as a treat, although my daughter has discovered that caramelized onions are a great substitute - they bring earthy depth and sweetness to the sandwich.

Don’t feel like you need to make something special to make a bahn mi. Use what you have! We’ve used carnitas, leftover steak, baked salmon, scrambled eggs, you name it. Basically, we’ll use any excuse to make a sandwich with cilantro and do chua, because they are so freaking delicious.

Recently I had a hankering for poke bowls, and so I had some sushi-grade fish shipped from Hawaii (Honolulu Fish Market: Five stars!!!!). There was plenty of extra ahi, so I cut a few steaks and seared them.

Ahi gettin’ it on with ginger, garlic, serranos and sesame.

After a quick sear in a hot pan.

After searing, we sliced the ahi steaks into thin, delectable strips. Of course we put them in banh mi.

Was it delicious? Yes, it was.

Was it a tuna sandwich? No. Not even close.

Would I do it again? Bitch, please… I already have.

A rare treat… Get it?

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Shit You Need

This will make enough for 4 big-ass banh mi.

For the seared ahi tuna steaks:

1. Sushi-grade ahi tuna, cut into 1 - 1 1/2 inch thick steaks, 12-16 ounces total

2. 1/4 cup of soy sauce

3. 2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

4. One inch of ginger root, peeled and minced

5. one serrano chile, halved and sliced thinly

6. 3 cloves of garlic, minced

7. 4 tablespoons sesame seeds

For the do chua:

1. One large carrot, cut into matchstick-sized julienne

2. One half daikon radish, cut into matchstick-sized julienne. Aim for 50% more daikon than carrot in your final mix.

3. 2 teaspoons plus 1 tablespoon sugar

4. 1 tablespoon kosher salt

5. 3/4 cup hot water

6. 3/4 cup white wine vinegar

For the banh mi:

1. Vietnamese or French baguette. Or a Mexican bolillo roll. I used homemade ciabatta rolls, which were a little more crusty than ideal, but still damn good. You either need a petite baguette or a length of baguette cut to 7 or 8 inches long.

2. Seared ahi tuna steaks, sliced into strips

3. Mayonnaise, store-bought or homemade. Add sriracha to taste, or blend it up with herbs and chiles and lime juice. You do you.

4. Seedless cucumbers, sliced thinly into stylish ellipses

5. Jalapeños, sliced thinly

6. Fresh cilantro leaves. You can also throw in basil or mint, or both.

7. Do chua

8. Maggi seasoning (optional)

Do chua, a quick Vietnamese pickle of carrot and daikon.

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Keep Calm and justeffingcook

For the ahi steaks:

1. To a small bowl, add soy sauce, sesame oil, ginger, serrano and garlic and whisk to combine.

2. Heat a small skillet over medium-high and add the sesame seeds. Stir and shake the pan to keep them moving until they are light golden brown. Add them to the soy sauce mixture.

3. Place the ahi steaks in a small roasting pan or a large ziplock bag. Pour the marinade over them. If using a pan, flip them to coat, and cover. If using a bag, much the marinade around to coat. Place the steaks in the refrigerator to marinate for an hour or two.

4. Heat a large, preferably cast-iron or carbon steel pan over med-high heat. Add a tablespoon or two of canola, grapeseed or avocado oil (you need a high smoking point oil). Add the steaks and sear for one minute per side. They should turn golden brown, but not stay so long the flesh inside begins to cook.

5. Let the ahi rest until cool, then slice.

For the do chua:

1. Add the carrot and daikon matchsticks to a medium-sized bowl and sprinkle with the salt and 2 teaspoons sugar. Toss until the veggies start to sweat. Leave for 30 minutes.

2. Drain the water from the bowl. Dry the veggies on paper towels and rinse the bowl.

3. Return the veggies to the bowl and add the remaining sugar, hot water, and vinegar. Let steep at room temperature one hour.

4. Do chua can be used right away, or transferred to a mason jar and kept in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.

Banh mi:

1. Slice each baguette nearly all the way through, but not quite. You want the hinge to hold all the yummy inside.

2. Spread each half with the mayonnaise or aioli.

3. To the bottom half, add jalapeño slices and a generous layer of cilantro leaves and/or other herbs.

4. Add 1/4 of the ahi slices you’ve prepared.

5. Top with sliced cucumber and finally, do chua. If you happen to have Maggi seasoning, sprinkle a little on the top half of the bread.

6. Slam the lid and eat!

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