The Blueberry Hazelnut Pie.

This Week: The Pie Project.

If you have been reading, last week, I decided to begin my "pie a week" project. If anyone has not heard of “The Pie Project” by Phoebe Wood and Kirsten Jenkins, please go check it out! Amazing! And to kick start this new adventure, I made not one but, two pies. The first was Rhubarb, Strawberry, Thyme and Balsamic pie and the second was a gluten free {yay! Something I could actually eat!} Blueberry, Hazelnut Crust Pie. They both turned out amazing; although, the blueberry was a little tricky and challenging. 

The day {Friday} had started out with me chatting on the phone to my friend and cleaning the house. Michael and I were planning a day shopping and a visit with some friends on Saturday, so I had to prepare Friday afternoon. Which meant everything needed to work out; no time for mistakes; but this is Kelle we are talking about. ;)  So to begin, I made the Strawberry Rhubarb first and used my shallow pie dish. This was poor planning on my part because I needed a shallow dish for the Blueberry. The Strawberry Rhubarb came out perfectly and looked heavenly! That balsamic and thyme smell! The Hazelnut crust called for a little more hazelnuts than I had on hand, so I substituted with pecans; is that bad?? The recipe called for it to be baked while the blueberry filling was cooking. Bubbling and bursting, the blueberries cooked over the stove until it thickened and looked like jam. This is where the first mistake came; I went to place it into my cooked pie crust baked in my deep dish. The filling only filled half; it looked quite sad. "Maybe it will rise." "Maybe that's how it's supposed to be." I thought to myself. Winging it, I threw it into the oven and hope for the best; my second mistake. Thirty minutes later, it did not rise; don't ask me what I was thinking. Frantically, I looked at the clock and sighed. There was no way I had time to remake everything. Luckily for me I happen to live with Michael. If there is anything he taught me over the past few years of being married to him, it is to think outside the box and create a solution with things I have around me. Meringue! It's answer to any problem, of course. I pulled out my recipe and went to town. Eggs whites and sugar cooking over the stove, whipping to perfection and it tasted oh so glorious! I layered it over my small, sad looking pie and fluffed it up with my knife a little. “I’m a genius!” I sang to myself. Now, into the broiler it went; just for a little extra detail. I watched it like a hawk; opening the stove and peaking. We shall pause this story to remind you of my little Elias. He was a perfect angel all day; until the blueberry incident. Resuming, I peaked at it once more. "Ahhh, a few more seconds!" At this very crucial moment, Elias started to grab the stove knob and turn the flame on. "No no!" I said to Elias. He looked at me, paused, and touched it again; turning it on. "No no." I bent down and scolded. Elias shrieked and I picked him up and took him to the other room. "Why does the house smell like s'mores?" Then I shrieked, "The Pieeeeeeeeee!!!!" Squealing, I ran into the kitchen. I flung open the oven and pulled out a very black meringue pie. "No, No, Nooooo!" Pulling myself together, I wasted no time. I carefully removed the meringue and simply began again. Cracking the eggs very carefully, I began to separate them into the sugar mixture. Nearing the fourth egg, I peered over to the stove and there was my dear Elias; smiling and reaching for the knob again. "No, no Elias," I said. I looked back into my bowl. Sadly, the fourth egg had slipped out of the shell as I turned away. The yoke broke; intertwining with the rest of the whites. "No, no, noooooooo!" I tried as hard as I could to separate it. Hopeful, I cooked it and whipped it. Twenty minutes later, the eggs still had not thickened; they were a thin liquid splashing around in the bowl. I gave up. After putting Elias to bed I cleaned up the kitchen and, taking a breath, started again. There was no way I saw going to bring this pie anywhere looking like that. I had run out of sugar in my jar, so I grabbed a bag from above and started to transport it. At this time, Michael had come home from work and was sitting at the table eating some snacks. Unfortunately, the bag slipped from my fingers and sugar came pouring out everywhere. "Ugghhhh!!" I responded. "That's it, I quite! It's over! No meringue! I'm done!" Michael chuckled; not knowing what I had been through. Being the hero that he always is, Michael hugged me, cleaned the sugar up and encouraged me to keep going. After Elias woke up, Michael took him outside and told me to try again. So, eight eggs, tons of sugar and a whole afternoon later, I took out the ingredients again. Carefully measuring and separating, I made my meringue for the third time and broiled it to perfection. The pie was finally beautiful and and complete. Plus it tasted amazing!

My moral of the story; sometimes being a Mom means sacrifice. Friday, my sacrifice was my beautiful meringue, burnt to a crisp. But the outcome; my dear Elias learned not to touch the burners. At least I hope he learned. Until next time. :)