Raspberry Apricot Pie
This pie wasn't part of the plan.
Originally, it was meant to be a strawberry rhubarb pie that I baked last week and brought along to Nashville, Tennessee as a gift for my boyfriend's parents. In the days leading up to the flight, I went back and forth between deciding to bring the pie and deciding that bringing the pie is a horrible idea; so many things could go wrong, like having it confiscated at TSA, or dropped and shattered on the train to the gate, or forced into an overhead bin by a sassy flight attendant. Ultimately, I decided it was worth the risk, and so I baked it and carefully wrapped it, packed it and placed it in a separate bag, which I cradled in the crook of my arm to the parking lot, on the shuttle and into the airport. If I was seated, it never left my lap.
We approached the security screening, and as I watched a TSA agent pick up the bin carrying the pie and place it in that dreaded corner with the other suspect carry-ons, I felt myself go into full-on mom mode. For reference:
And I was expecting this to happen, so I was fully prepared to see the pie behind that ominous glass -- but I suddenly became fully prepared to physically and verbally fight somebody, which is something I honestly wasn't expecting. I looked at the scrawny TSA agent, and then, without hesitation, I went over my lines: I will fight you for this pie. This pie is getting on that plane. You will not take this pie. Why yes, it's strawberry rhubarb. When it came time for inspection, the agent asked if there was anything sharp in the bag. I told him no, but there is a pie in the bag.
"A pie?" He looked at me, then at the box carrying the pie, and then he opened it and peeled back the layer of foil and plastic wrap. "I'm going to have to confiscate this," he said slowly and seriously.
Mom mode is at an all-time high.
I am ready to throw punches.
He must have sensed the shift in my mood because he starts laughing, and it's a really good laugh. "I'm kidding. Have a nice flight."
I'd like to take this moment to thank TSA for hiring an agent with a sense of humor. It's a rare breed. And on that note, I'd also like to inform you of the incredible Instagram account that is TSA's; if you have a free moment today, I highly recommend scrolling through and finding a soft spot in your heart for all TSA agents.
Anyway, the pie eventually made it to Nashville, and it was a big hit among anyone who had a slice. Believe it or not, it's actually the first strawberry rhubarb pie I've made -- and I now understand everyone's obsession with the combination. It was magical.
So when we arrived back in Denver, I was anxious to bake it again and bring it to work, and everything was going swimmingly until I decided to use a larger cast-iron saucepan to cook down the strawberries and rhubarb, and here is where the terrible happens: After a few minutes in the pan, the fruit began to take on a grey-ish tint, which was terrifying to me because I thought perhaps something was wrong with the rhubarb -- until it dawned on me that the cast-iron is the issue. It's an old pan that I really don't use very often, and I suppose it hadn't been seasoned or cleaned properly (whoops)... so the usually-gorgeous bright pink filling is now a hideous grey. Gross.
Off I went to the store (a little enraged), fully aware that I'd just bought the last few stalks of rhubarb and not entirely sure what I was looking for... until I saw apricots, raspberries and candied ginger. I bet these would make a nice pie. And sure enough, they did. It reminded me a lot of Peach Melba Pie (aka my all-time favorite pie, ever), and hopefully it will hold me over until Palisade peach season -- and the candied ginger gives it a little bite. And the real plus: the filling is a beautiful pink, not a nasty, washed-out grey. So if you're itching for summer and peach pies, give this one a shot!
Raspberry Apricot Pie
INGREDIENTS
1 double-crust pie crust recipe of your choice, or All-Butter Crust or Butter & Shortening Crust, chilled & ready to roll
2 tablespoons graham cracker crumbs
8 ripe apricots, sliced into 1-inch thick slices (do not peel)
1 cup raspberries, slightly mashed
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons minced candied ginger
1 egg white lightly beaten with 1 teaspoon water, for brushing over curst
Granulated sugar, for sprinkling
Preheat oven to 425 F. Line a baking sheet with foil and place it in the oven while it preheats.
On a lightly-floured surface or between 2 layers of plastic wrap, roll out one disc of dough to a 12-inch circle, rotating and dusting with flour throughout the process to avoid sticking. Roll the dough onto your rolling pin and unroll into a 9-inch pie plate and trim the edges. Sprinkle graham cracker crumbs into the crust, making sure to reach the corners -- this will help create a layer between your filling and bottom crust so it doesn't get soggy! Place the crust in the fridge while you make the filling.
In a large bowl, toss apricot slices, mashed raspberries, sugar, salt, cornstarch and candied ginger until the fruit is coated. Set aside.
Roll out the other piece of dough into a 10-inch circle and cut lattice strips, if desired. Retrieve bottom crust from the fridge. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the fruit filling into the bottom crust and pour remaining juice over top. Layer lattice stripes over top of the pie, or simply place top crust over the filling in a single disc. Roll bottom crust edges over top of the top crust, and crimp/pinch the edges in a decorative pattern. Freeze the pie for 20 minutes before baking.
After 20 minutes, brush the pie with the egg wash and sprinkle with granulated sugar. If you did not weave a lattice, cut steam vents in the top crust layer. Place the pie on the preheated baking sheet and bake the pie for 20-25 minutes, until the crust is blistered and blonde. Lower oven temperature to 350 and continue baking for an additional 45-55 minutes, until the crust is a deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling in the center. If crust is browning too quickly, tent with foil.
Allow to cool at least 3 hours until slicing and serving (with vanilla ice cream, of course)!