I had no intention of going on an apple pie-making binge. I simply did what we always do in October: go apple picking, complain about the price of a bag, insist on filling it to the brim (for economic reasons), and then eat some apples on the way home while the bag was still overflowing.So I made an apple pie with 4.25 pounds of apples from the orchard, and the bag looked exactly the same as it had at the orchard. Could they still be growing inside?
It’s the only possible explanation.
I started with the apple pie recipe that’s been on this site for 12 years, but I’ve tweaked it a little at home in small ways over the years (different spice levels, some brown sugar worked in, and thinner slices).
I tweaked it a lot this time, thanks to the brilliant Bravetart book, and it was the best apple pie I’d ever made.
So I did the only rational thing and brought slices of my pie brag to everyone I saw for a couple of days, and then I ran out of pie and made another one using the same tweaks, and it, too, was the best apple pie I’d ever made, so I did the only rational thing and made a third one, and it was the best apple pie I’d ever made, so I did the only rational thing and made a fourth one, and it was the best apple pie I’d ever made
Out of loyalty to the old pie recipe, I wanted to do talk about in a new post because I know there are people who make it yearly and I don’t want to change the way it’s written. But that pie is 12 years old — that pie recipe would be IN MIDDLE SCHOOL right now — it’s okay if it’s not the same person it was in its toddler years and no I’m not projecting, you’re projecting, this is about pie,
Here’s what I do a little differently these days (and do skip right to the recipe if you’re not into the Inside Baseball of all it):
Time and temperature changes: Previously, I used the baking instructions from America’s Test Kitchen, which at the time were to heat the oven to 500°F, lower it to 425 after the pie was in, and then, 30 minutes later, reduce it to 375 for the remaining baking time, for about 60 minutes baking time total, which was also rarely enough. I bet you can guess what would actually happen every time I made this: I’d remember to reduce the temperature the first time, never the second, and it also looked overbaked before it was done. Stella Parks recommends baking the pie at a single temperature (400) for a longer period of time (75 minutes), and even gives you a suggested internal temperature if you’re nervous about doneness, and lo, it was perfect, with a crisp bottom crust (despite having no parbaking step) and with caramel-y juices. I haven’t looked back since.
I use more apples and I cut them thinner: One of the most frustrating things that happens when you make a pie is that you put in what seems like a massive amount of fresh fruit but after it slumps, shrinks, and nestles in as it bakes, you’re left with a very flat, if not concave, pie. Parks has a fantastic tip of having you mix your filling and let it macerate for a while so that the apples soften, allowing you to put a lot more in the filling and leading to pie slices stacked to the brim with apples. My original recipe calls for 3.5 pounds of apples; I’m now using between 4.25 and 4.5 pounds. Better to have too much filling (and bake it separately in a dish for the oatmeal or yogurt topping of champions in the coming days) than too little. I also cut the apples more thinly, a scant .25″ thick, which also allows them to nestle in more tightly so they don’t fall as much when baking.
Order of operations: Because we’re going to let the apples macerate a bit, I now prepare them first, and the pie dough second. They don’t mind waiting.
I like a mix of apples — usually: Most apple pie recipes, including my original one, want you to use hyper-specific amounts of hyper-specific kinds of apples, which is rarely what anyone has. I feel strongly that a mix of apples, ideally ones that won’t fall apart when baking, see this awesome page if you want more guidance as to which ones to choose, is the way to get the most nuanced and dynamic apple flavor in a pie. Nobody wants a one-note pie. That said, the orchard we were in had a ton of massive mutsu apples ready, and I made my last few pies with them only. Turns out they’re fantastic baking apples. “Uh, Deb, you just contradicted yourself.” Yes, and I want you, too, to go with the flow.
Flavor changes: Although I started skipping the lemon because we were out of lemons, when I didn’t miss the flavor at all, I never bothered putting it back in. Ditto with the lemon zest, which I found distracting. I also increased the cinnamon and added a little ground ginger (which won’t make it gingery, promise; it just seems to wake the pie up a little). Finally, I started swapping half, then more, of the sugar with brown sugar and I really don’t know why I wasn’t doing this all along. It’s lovely here.
Thickener changes: I started using tapioca flour/starch (they’re the same thing) as a pie thickening a few years ago and haven’t looked back since it became more widely accessible (Bob’s Red Mill makes some; check any store that carries the brand, or here, here, or here). Once cooked, it becomes transparent and unchalky and doesn’t mask the flavor of the filling like I find certain commercial thickening blends too.
The dream is essential that you wouldn’t even notice it was there. .
