I hate pie crust. I only like what lies between. When I was a kid I would eat the filling – leaving the empty crust to collapse onto itself on the plate. (A practice which my mother decried as wasteful.) And I dreamed of the day when I could just eat the middle
So when I was a newly-wed back in 1969, my very first grocery store purchase was a Burny Brother’s pumpkin pie. There I stood at my own kitchen counter, drunk on my new-found independence, defiantly eating half of the pie filling- and none of the crust. It was a triumph for “middle earthers” everywhere.
To this day, I only like desserts that wobble- pudding, cream pie fillings, even jello. Nursery food. If you don’t need teeth to enjoy it, I’m there.
Growing up in the fifties, long before Julia Child raised our kitchen consciousness, I was fed typical labor-free desserts. My mother was always hurrying to or coming back from her latest “maj,” bridge or canasta game. Thus convenience was key. The back of the jello box provided most of her confectionary inspiration.
Jello, tapioca, or a melange of miniature marshmallows, canned fruit cocktail and sour cream called “Heavenly Hash” held regular sway at our dinner table. Many a night, Sara Lee came to my rescue with her cheesecake. Maybe because I had never met a dessert that fought back, I didn’t see the need for the packaging. Many people would disagree. The crust is their favorite part of the pie.
I can’t invite you back to my childhood kitchen but I want to offer up some prime examples of dessertus wobbleus. To crust or not to crust? You be the judge.
Remember Jimmy’s Place on Elston Avenue? It was run by the late, great Jimmy Rohr, an eccentric autocrat who banned chicken and perfume from the premises and worshipped the genius of Maria Callas. He loved a dessert called Floating Island.
And although he was not the pastry chef, when the spirit moved him, Jimmy would create an ethereal meringue pouf gently nestled atop a creamy custard floating on a pool of creme anglaise. It was sublime- and not a crumb of crust in sight.
Jimmy is gone now but memories of his beautiful little temple of gastronomy and opera still linger on. This dessert was a work of art- and so was he.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, there was the old Bub City on Weed Street. It was a Lettuce Entertain You enterprise devoted to stick-to-your-ribs grub. It was “y’awl come back now” charm. And it had a chocolate pudding that made you want to slap yo’ mama. It was not a mousse or a ganache. It tasted like real, old-fashioned chocolate jello-box pudding and I was wild about it.
Bub City has recently been reincarnated and modernized. Note to Rich Melman and/or his kids: As a former neighbor and big-time bubba, I am begging you to reinstate this pudding.
Nostalgia doesn’t have to rule the day. There are some restaurants extant that can satisfy my middle fixation.
Denver’s Brown Palace hotel restaurant, the Ship Tavern, has a fantastic claim to fame. They say they invented a magnificent piece of pastry known as Signature Black Bottom Pie. It’s a chocolate pudding dream so delicious I almost consider eating its oreo cookie crust. It’s my exception to the “no crust”rule and worth the Rocky Mountain high you’ll hit on the scale if you eat this dessert enough.
Closer to home, Gibson’s on Chicago’s Rush Street used to serve a banana cream pie that did me nicely. It was huge, and the creamy banana filling was loaded with gigantic pieces of banana. One piece could feed a whole table. But I think that’s been off the menu for awhile.
These days, they are showcasing a variation on the Brown Palace theme- a chocolate mousse pie extravaganza that caught my eye when I was there the other night. Dark and decadent-looking, and enough middle to feed an army. Does it have a crust Who knows? I’ve never met anyone hungry enough to eat their way to the bottom to find out. Go for Mario, the greatest waiter on earth, and the ribs. But stick around for the decadent finale.
For all local suburbanites, Abigail’s, in Highland Park, trots out a little number- a chocolate peanut butter mousse tart, with a peanut brittle hat and a side of banana ice cream. The middle is peanut butter whip and the bottom “crust” is oreo-cookie crumb. The top is a disk of bittersweet chocolate.
(Even better, when I was in there for lunch just the other day, they had chocolate bread pudding as the special. I swooned when I saw it on the chalkboard menu and all thoughts of pie flew right out of my head. They had me at the pudding.)
For a completely different dessert experience I happened to be at Lillstreet Art Center on March fourteenth this year. I had been invited to lunch and the twenty-five cent tour by its founder, Bruce Robbins- a friend from high school.
This was a thrill- even for an intensely art-challenged person like me. All that rampant, electric creativity with mud, kilns, jewelry, ceramics, painting, drawing, sewing, photography- you get the idea- art in every form, was inspirational, and the Cobb salad we grabbed at the in-house First Slice Cafe was a tasty bonus. But I could see that the pies were the gastronomic thing to do here. I made a mental note to check them out further.
But, after a tour of his new art space a few doors down, Bruce and I were greeted by a long line of people snaking out the front door.
“What’s this?” I asked. (The line hadn’t been there just fifteen minutes before when we went to look at the performance annex.)
“It’s Pie Day,” Bruce told me. “And on Pie Day, we give away free pie.”
Huh? Was this a regular thing at Lillstreet? I knew they were philanthropy-minded and gave back to the community, but how could they stay in business if they gave away free pie?
“It’s 3/14. You know. 3.14. Pi.”
Oh, that kind of Pi Day. And what free pie. They had Michigan sour cherry and good old-fashioned apple but my appestat was instantly engaged by the lemon meringue and French silk offerings.
Give one a try. A portion of all their pie sales goes to charity. So when you’re in the mood to eat well, do well and throw a pot, Lillstreet is the only place to be.
Honesty compels me to admit that I actually eat this stuff about twice a year. These days, I am mostly a pie voyeur. I look but do not touch. If I caved to all my cravings then I would have no middle.
Still I’ll see you around the sweet table, sweeties.
You’ll know me right away.
I’ll be the only one there desperately seeking the tapioca.
We are perfect together! I only like the crust, just the crunchy edge, not the top, nor the bottom, and only a tiny tiny taste of the middle. And never if it wiggles! If we EVER have dessert together, I’ll be happy to share. You can have all the middle, and me the crust!
Very cute post and especially funny that you wrote about food Ms. Carrot Tangerine!
Maybe Nick will order dessert at his B-Day celebration Sunday and we can stare at it!!
I love this. Together we can order a piece of pie. Who knew? And I love that you are so crust-specific, Miss “God is in the Details.”. Very you.
Thanks, Joan. See you Sunday. And I plan on ordering some pasta. To hell with the clementines!
Loved today’s column, Ellen. With all the terrible stuff happening in the world today (and this week), it’s nice to read something that made me smile. And, have you ever tried the (middle of the) bananas foster pie at Joe’s? OMG. It’s amazing!! thanks for the smiles! xo
Nancy, you doll. You read my mind. I felt exactly the same way. Especially with Natasha in Boston. (A very good pie town. Think Boston cream.)
And funny you should mention Joe’s. I had included it and then had to delete it as the post seemed long. Their pies are UNBELIEVABLE. Haven’t had that one, but I will, thanks to you.
And thanks for this. Love to all.
My grandma made the world’s greatest pumpkin pie. She made the crust from scratch, except one time when she tried a “store-bought” pie crust. Her vision was a little less than perfect in those days. Little did she know there was a layer of parchment paper in the crust. She freely admitted her attempt to use store crust and when we sat down to eat her wonderful pumpkin pie there was a layer of paper between the filling and the crust. Homemade crust from that point on.
That’s a riot. But parchment paper or not, pumpkin is my fave. ( As you can tell, since it was the first thing I bought when I had my own kitchen.)
Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule of day-dreaming about Lake Powell to contact me. I’ve been waiting for an actual phone call for four days. Yeah I know. Tax Season.
I’m with Joan. If it wiggles or jiggles, I’m out. Crunchy, like your old choc chip cookies is my idea of a perfect dessert.
I was hoping to hear from you. ML is a dessert connoisseur, folks. Very discriminating and unfailingly high-standards. I always defer to her judgment on matters of the sweet table. (And thanks for the props re my cookies. Yes, they are good.)
I’m sorry you feel this way pie-wise, however. We will have to agree to disagree. But I thought about your mother as I was typing this one. Didn’t you tell me she likes pudding, too?
Hi Ellen – I would have responded earlier but there was a small storm today outside and a large flood inside Lillstreet. A very hilarious post. I’m glad you love pies if only from the inside because the pies at First Slice are really great – the Michigan sour cherry won 2nd prize in Time Out’s best pie contest. And Mary Ellen Diaz, the chef/owner is a classically trained chef who has an amazing heart. So when you eat one of her delicious pies (or any food) the money goes to feed over 800 homeless youth a week. The cafe is not-for-profit, so as she says “Yummy food with a social conscience”. Also thanks for coming by Lillstreet. Next time we’ll get you on the potters wheel.
Thanks again for the tour and the comment, Noah. Glad to see that things are drying off over there. Yes, please give my compliments to the chef. Next time I might actually have to taste a piece of pie.
Love your comment re the potters wheel. I’m thinking it’s very Demi Moore in Ghost. I’ll have to search for my overalls before I come down.
Ps. Where’s Gersten? Am expecting a highly-offensive comment about myself any minute now.
I like the crust
That figures. When can Kenny and I sign up for your tours?
I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WENT TO THE GROCERY STORE BUT IT MAKES SENSE THAT WOULD BE YOUR FIRST PURCHASE – COOKING WASN’T YOUR SPECIALTY. UNFORTUNATELY I DON’T LIKE PUMPKIN PIE.
IN THE MEAN TIME I BOUGHT A NEW CAR IN YOUR HONOR – IT’S AN X-1.
This seems a teensy bit um, hostile. But in the spirit of free speech, I publish all comments, mean or not.
True, cooking wasn’t my forte back then. The very first meal that I prepared for my new husband was tuna fish salad- and my cousin Joanie had to help me. I was pretty clueless kitchen-wise. But I don’t think that’s why he married me.
Nice wheels. When do I get a ride?
My mom likes all the kinds of desserts you do. I have crazy eating likes and dislikes. Just ask Kenny. He still doesn’t get me after all these years.
No, it’s not that crazy. Mike has a brother, Pat, who will not touch any food that is wobbly,either. I think a lot of people have this phobia. He used to say that it was a “texture thing.”
Your mother just happens to have great taste in desserts-and daughters. And you might want to show her this post. Thanks for the update, ML!