I submitted a Google form on July 10th filled with an agonizingly simple set of questions. I pored over each answer for approximately 48 hours before hand, wondering what I could say that would secure me a spot in a pie competition at one of my very favorite restaurants, owned by one of the chefs I admire most.
I dreamt up what pie I would make, debated who my dream judge would be, and sifted through hundreds of pictures of things I’ve baked to narrow it down to just one that could show I was a competent (yet unmistakably amateur) baker. Two whole months later, I got an email with the word ACCEPTED in the email. Not only that, but my sister received it, too. Very quickly, things got serious.
We were given 12 days to submit a recipe for our pies, which meant, naturally, that I had to actually develop one for a pie I made up in my head and had never actually created. I’ve crafted quite a few recipes, but none that I have properly written down, much less submitted or shared—the stakes here felt particularly high especially given a pie’s precariousness, with so much room for error and adjustment.
I think I spent $300 on ingredients off the bat, knowing that I had several tests ahead of me to perfect the ratio of flours in the crust and berries and spices in the filling—I also had to make three pies to actually bring to the competition, so an initial stock up was necessary. I spent two weekends making pies, researching different techniques for crust, and playing with how mine could be unique. I wanted something delicious, not too “out there” but still with elevated flavors. A summer berry pie transformed into something warm and autumnal.
Having made a thousand galettes, almost exclusively with Claire Saffitz’s all butter pie dough recipe, I had a good starting point. I’ve been making my way through Nicola Lamb’s Sift, too, and wanted to read up on her technique for crust. This was all fine and good until I decided that my pie needed to be made with the best, most delicious flour I could find, which ended up being a whole grain danko rye flour from the incredible Brooklyn Granary and Mill. Rye flour (and whole grains) react to moisture very differently than a traditional King Arthur AP flour, which prompted another round of adjusting.
In the end, a recipe was written. And submitted. It was a process with lots of butter and berries being put to good use, and some very kind friends tasting every single edition.
Four months later, with a freezer full of berries and 6 or so tests under my belt, it was game time. My entire family headed upstate (my sister and I both competing, each permitted a guest) with a trunk full of freezer bags and specific kinds of flour, a mason jar part full of vodka, Diamond Crystal in a ziploc baggy, and every kitchen tool I could possibly need.
We chose our AirBnB VERY carefully, knowing that it would be pushed to its limits while 6 pies were baked over the course of 36 hours. We landed at a cute house in Ancram with plenty of counter space and, perhaps, one of the worst ovens I have ever used. Baking in a stranger’s kitchen is almost always a disaster. This was pretty bad timing, though a risk we knew we were taking. Couldn’t recommend less.
Hallie and I made crusts and mised fillings, par baked and rested doughs, and finally, painstakingly, assembled each pie. By the time my final pie came out of the oven (a truly horrible, terrible oven) it was 3:45AM. The pies had to be fresh yet room temp when they were delivered, so it was a matter of precise timing. That, and major delays because we had a 3 hour visit with my cousin followed by a 3 hour dinner at Stissing House the night prior.
Day of
After 6 hours of sleep, I was beyond the point of concern for my pies. I did my best, right? As I got dressed, I tried so very hard to ignore that the judges of said pies were among my most revered chefs and writers. Claire Saffitz single-handedly taught me how to bake, Samin Nosrat wrote the first cookbook I ever read front to back, and Hannah Goldfield has remained a north star in impeccable food writing. Oh, and Martha Stewart was there, too. Surprise!
With a pie in each hand, and a third being carried very cautiously by my father, we loaded into the car, pies propped up with grocery bags across the back seat as we drove through the windy roads of Pine Plains toward our destination.
Stepping into Stissing House just past 11am, we were greeted with a sign— “FILMING IN PROGRESS,” it read. My sister and I looked at each other with pure fear in our eyes. Who was filming…and why? Turns out, Substack had arrived with a full filming crew. Off to a great start, completely not intimidating at all!
One pie was whisked away “for the judges’ deliberation room.” OK! And we were brought upstairs and greeted by a stack of bales of hay propped onto a beautiful wooden table. A banner read “Pie Fest,” prizes and chairs were set up, tote bags and aprons were laid out, and our two remaining pies were placed behind beautiful signs. We had coffee and (amazing??) bagels, were swept away to be interviewed by Substack, had our portraits taken…and then the judges arrived. Contestants and their guests perched on chairs while the judges walked in succession around the table, dipping forks into all 33 pies, taking notes, and causing me major agita. There are few things more insane than watching Martha Stewart eat something you’ve made.
After nearly an hour, the tasting ended and the judges were shuffled back downstairs to deliberate while the rest of us had drinks and enormous pork pies from Stissing House’s CDC, served with sinus-clearing mustard. We drank apple cider and sherry out of mismatched silver coupes, passed around champagne, and bounced between the baskets of rosemary popcorn and platters of Jake’s Gouda. Each detail was more thoughtful (and delicious) than the last.
The judges reappeared, the contestants were seated, in aprons, on the bleachers behind our esteemed panel. The winners were announced with well over 100 onlookers. A salted maple bourbon pie came in first, a completely breathtaking shaker lemon pie in second, and a dutch apple pie made by a 7 year old and her father came in 3rd. Tough competition.
The prizes were handed out and we dispersed to indulge in 33 different pies and chat with the judges—a moment of celebration to commemorate a completely surreal day.
Did I win? No. Was it the coolest thing I’ve ever done? 1000000%.
AND what I did win…two (!!!) other contestants were right on Franklin subscribers, I met Claire Saffitz, Samin Nosrat and Greta Caruso told me they liked my pie, and I got to see an empty dish at the end of it all.
Substack Team and Stissing House sure know how to throw a party. I’m still recovering.
The recipe
As shown in the Pie Fest Community Cookbook!
Bramble and Rye Pie
Crust:
50g water
10g vodka
60g creme fraiche
140g rye flour
140g all-purpose flour
26g sugar
6g kosher salt
215g unsalted butter (2 sticks, minus 1 tablespoon)
Filling:
130g granulated sugar
6g rosemary
3 cardamom pods, or 1/4tsp ground cardamom
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp orange zest
1/8 cup or 23g all purpose flour
1 tbsp cornstarch
300g blueberries
300g blackberries
1 egg yolk
1/3 cup demerara sugar (measure with your heart)
For the crust:
For the crust, whisk the water, vodka, and crème fraîche together and place the mixture in the freezer. Line a plate with parchment, slice 215g butter into ⅛-inch pats, spread them in a single layer, and freeze. In a large bowl, whisk together both flours, 26g sugar, and 6g salt, then chill the bowl. Let everything chill for about 10–15 minutes.
Toss the cold butter slices in the cold flour mixture until fully coated. Quickly break them into thin sheets and small, blueberry-sized pieces—uniformity isn’t important, but every piece should be broken up. If anything warms, return it to the fridge briefly.
Retrieve the chilled liquid, drizzle about half over the flour–butter mixture, and mix until absorbed. Add most of the remaining liquid, mix with a fork, then gently with your hands until large clumps form. Turn the mixture onto a floured surface and bring the dough together, adding the last bit of liquid only if dry pieces remain.
Roll the dough into a rough rectangle, fold it in half, and roll again, incorporating any loose floury bits as you go. Wrap tightly and refrigerate for 12–24 hours.
When ready to shape, divide the dough in half and return one half to the fridge. On a floured surface, soften the dough with the rolling pin and roll it into an imperfect circle about ⅛ inch thick. If it softens, chill briefly. Lay the dough into your pie pan without stretching it, trim the edges, and freeze. Preheat the oven to 425°F.
Blind-bake with parchment and pie weights for 15 minutes, then remove the weights and bake about 5 minutes more, until lightly golden. While it bakes, roll out the second half of the dough, chilling as needed, and keep it cold until assembly. Prepare your egg wash and demerara sugar.
Let the bottom crust cool for at least 20 minutes, preferably until fully cool, and reduce the oven to 400°F. Add your filling. Drape the top crust over the pie, cut vents or shapes, and crimp the edges so the two crusts join. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.
Bake the assembled pie for about 1 hour, until the top, sides, and bottom are well browned and the filling is bubbling. Cool for at least an hour before slicing—longer if you want a cleaner cut.
For the filling:
Roughly chop 6g of fresh rosemary and add to a food processor with granulated sugar. Pulse until the sugar has taken on a very strong rosemary sent, and there are no big rosemary pieces remaining.
Crush cardamom pods and add innards, as well as cinnamon, salt, and orange zest to the food processer. Pulse a few times until well combined, set aside.
Measure out flour and cornstarch in a medium bowl. Give a quick whisk before adding your berries. Toss berries in flour.
Once coated, add sugar mixture and toss until well combined.
Add to par-baked crust.
This is so magical wow
you are SO COOL!!!!!!! this is awesome i loved reading it :))