I promised a review of my Thanksgiving attempt at Alton Brown's Super Apple Pie, and I am nothing if not a woman of my word when it comes to food. If you care to read the recipe (go ahead...I'll wait), you will see that it has taken the construction of what most people consider one of the simplest fruit pies to a level of complexity that may be best summarized in the following analogy. Regular Apple Pie : AB's Super Apple Pie, is like One Room Log Cabin : Frank Lloyd Wright's House of Falling Water. Ok, everybody on the same page now? Good.
But I was game. Unable to locate good Braeburn apples, I only used three of the four recommended varieties, but I think that was no biggie. I also refused to go out and hunt for a two-inch deep tart pan with a removable bottom (can we say "uni-tasker," AB?), so instead I employed one of my many springform pans, a nice 9-incher I inherited from my maternal grandmother. And I am pleased to say that it worked perfectly in every respect, so I recommend one for pie purposes.
The final pie was indeed delicious. The apples were tender but not mushy, the flavor was distinctly apple without being overwhelming. The applejack made for a tasty, tender crust.
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| And that little pie bird poking its head out is ADORABLE! |
What I DID take away from this recipe was the use of tapioca flour (not to be confused with tapioca pearls) as a thickener for the filling. Bloody Brilliant! At first I was feeling disgruntled that I was buying yet ANOTHER flour for my kitchen*, but once I discovered the silky results, I was sold. I highly recommend that you try it.
One of the reasons I made an apple pie for Thanksgiving was tradition. Tradition was also responsible for the turkey**, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes (thank you again, dear guest, for bringing the best sweet potato dish I have ever had in my life, EVER), and even the plate of carrot and celery sticks that everyone ignores. Tradition also dictated the way I set the table, and the dishes I used. My guest and every friend and family member I talked to on the phone that day brought up their own traditions at least once.
Another Thanksgiving tradition is football, and the Ohio State/Michigan game is always held the weekend following the holiday. As my husband was pointing out, that rival game is also fraught with tradition, including the OSU marching band forming the word "Ohio" with the tuba dotting the "i."
Being a writer, these kinds of things prickle my mind on multiple levels, and I started thinking. At what point, I wondered, does the repetition of an action constitute a tradition? Let's start with the food thing: someone brings a dish to a holiday meal - let's say collard greens - and people enjoy it. The same dish is brought the next year. And then the next. Now, there are a few possible reasons for this recurrence, which are not mutually exclusive. There's the popularity of thing--if everyone likes it, then you know you have a hit, and of course you want to please. Then there's the also the laziness factor: you don't have to go through the process of deciding what to bring, digging out the recipe, making it, and then risking the displeasure of your fellow diners if you fall back on a previous success. And after enough time those collard greens may become expected, and you don't want to disappoint people. Which, I'm starting to think, may be the point at which it becomes a tradition.
Traditions provide a feeling of security and continuity, adding to the over-all comforting effect of holidays. They can also bind us with the past, as with my family's traditional recipe for stuffing, which I believe now spans five generations; making it is not only adding something delectable to the meal, it brings back memories of previous holidays, and makes us feel closer to the dearly departed. Some people cleave to tradition as though it were a matter of life or death. Others eschew them, either casually or with intense deliberateness. Most of us do a little of both.
As a writer, it occurs to me that which traditions are embraced and which are discarded say a LOT about a person, and makes a wonderful tool for character development. In the first chapters of my zombie story, our protagonist seeks out fellow professionals, and is greeted with varying levels of respect and tradition, which allows me to sketch their characters quickly and efficiently. This was not a deliberate choice at the time, but now that I'm thinking about it, well...go me, that was a great choice!
How about you? Got any great - or crappy - traditions to speak of? Do you use them at all in your writing, or can you think of any that lend spice to a favorite story?
*I already have AP flour, cake flour, spelt flour and white rice flour on hand at all times, and bread flour throughout the cold months. My pantry space is not infinite. In my perfect universe, entering my pantry would be not unlike going through the wardrobe into Narnia, except my mythical world would be a cross between the awesomest grocery store, Pike Place Market and Candyland, and everything would be free. But alas, this is as yet only a fanciful dream.
**Incidentally - and not to brag o'er much - I am the turkey queen. Seriously, I have obscenely good luck with roasting delectable, tender, photo-worthy turkeys that are juicy through-and-through, with no weird gimmickry. I'm not going to blog about it here, but if you want to know how I do it, just ask.