CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was no mention of Marcia and her untimely death as the baking kicked off in the pie category. They didn’t expect them to officially announce it, but some acknowledgement might have been appropriate.
The team was focused on their pies. Three full-sized pies for the viewing and six mini-pies, two of each flavor, for tasting. They’d make the decision to stick to their roots. Pecan, chocolate-fudge whiskey pie, and an apple-cherry combination fruit pie.
The trick to any great pie is always the crust. Flaky, light dough that holds the pie together, doesn’t get soggy but is also doesn’t fall apart, which is what the judges were looking for.
Sara looked down the row of bakers and nodded, smiling at Adrian. He looked up at her and smiled but it was a sad smile, one that was hiding something.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to the others. When she appeared at his table, he shook his head.
“Sara, if you hug me I’m going to bawl like a little baby. I’m just having a bad day.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I know this must be so difficult doing this, thinking about Jacques.” He nodded, biting his lower lip. His ‘extra help’, the giants behind him both stood, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“If it helps,” said Tailor, “I’m hungry little man and need you to get them pies bakin’.”
Adrian laughed, shaking his head as he wiped his eyes. He needed that. He needed the distraction.
“It does help,” he laughed. “Thank you, Tailor. And thank you, Sara.”
“You’re welcome. Now, let me get to my pies so we can kick your butt today.” He laughed again, nodding.
“Just remember, pies aren’t my forte. You’ve got this one.”
The men watched as the team worked to get the pies prepared. It was as if they were watching a symphony of coordination and baking mastery, along with flavor, scent, and texture.
They began with the crusts, because every pie’s character is decided before the filling ever meets the pan. Cold butter was cut into the flour until the pieces ranged from sandy crumbs to flat, pea-sized flakes, and that unevenness is exactly what gives the baked shell its tenderness.
Ice water was added by the tablespoon, just enough for the dough to hold when pressed, never enough to make it wet. The dough was gathered rather than kneaded, patted into disks, wrapped, and chilled until the butter firmed again and the flour had time to hydrate.
When the dough was rolled, the pin moved from the center outward, turning the disk a quarter turn often so it stayed round and did not cling to the counter. A light dusting of flour kept the surface loose, but too much flour toughened the crust, so their hands had to stay quick and deliberate.
The crust was lifted into the pie plate without stretching, eased into the corners, trimmed, tucked, and crimped with the steady rhythm of thumb and forefinger.
For pies with wet fillings, like the fruit pies, the bottom needed be chilled again or briefly blind baked so it baked up crisp instead of surrendering to syrup and fruit juice. They always chilled their fruit pie crusts before baking, a secret from Mama Irene and George.
The pecan pie started with the nuts, and it was worth taking time with them.
Pecans should smell sweet and buttery, not dusty or sharp, and a few minutes of toasting deepens their flavor before they go into the shell.
Sometimes they can be chopped for a fuller bite through the filling, while the prettiest halves are saved for the top.
Once warmed, the pecans released a fragrance that hinted at brown butter, caramel, and wood smoke, making the kitchen feel as though the pie is already baking.
The pecan filling was a slow, glossy mixture of eggs, sugar, syrup, melted butter, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. The eggs were whisked until smooth but not foamy, because too much air can encourage cracking, while the syrup and sugar gave the finished slice its familiar amber body.
Melted butter, warm, not hot, enriched the custard without scrambling it. A restrained pinch of salt mattered more than it seems, cutting through the sweetness and letting the pecans taste rounder and more roasted.
Once poured into the crust, the pecan pie settled into layers: nuts rising and spreading across the surface, syrup slipping between them, custard gathering underneath. The pie baked best at moderate heat so the filling thickens gradually rather than boiling hard.
The edges of the crust turned golden, while the center still trembled slightly when the pan was nudged. That gentle wobble was the promise of a filling that would set as it cools rather than becoming stiff or grainy.
The finished pecan pie should never be rushed.
Straight from the oven, its filling is molten and fragile, and cutting too soon would send the syrup flowing across the plate.
As it rested, the custard tightens, the pecans crisp, and the crust finishes drying from the stored heat of the pan.
A good slice should hold its triangular shape while still yielding at the fork, with a sticky sheen beneath a crackling nutty top.
It was why they started with the pecan pie.
A rookie mistake for someone to bake it second.
The chocolate fudge whiskey pie began in a darker register, with chocolate, butter, cocoa, sugar, eggs, and a measured splash of whiskey.
The goal was not to make the whiskey shout, but to let it warm the chocolate from underneath, bringing out notes of oak, vanilla, smoke, or spice depending on the bottle of whiskey you used.
A crumb crust or a traditional pastry crust can both work, but either one should be firm enough to support a dense, fudgy center. Their team was using a graham-style crust, pressed tightly into the plate and baked briefly so it sets before the filling is poured into it.
They all knew that chocolate responds best to gentleness.
Butter and chopped chocolate are melted slowly, over low heat frequent stirring, until the mixture turns smooth and satiny.
Cocoa powder was whisked with sugar and a little flour so it dispersed evenly and didn’t clump.
When the melted chocolate cooled slightly, they incorporated it with beaten eggs, and cream, and whiskey, forming a batter that looked like brownie silk.
The whiskey was added with a light hand because alcohol can sharpen a filling if used carelessly. If you asked Mama Irene, ‘pour a little more’, is what she would say. But for a competition, a tablespoon or two is enough to lace the pie with warmth while preserving the texture of the fudge.
Stirring with ease, but not frantically, they ensure the batter was unified, glossy, and thick, without being beaten into a froth. They added chopped nuts to bring contrast, but the deepest pleasure of this pie would be the uninterrupted smoothness of chocolate against crust.
In the oven, the chocolate fudge whiskey pie changed subtly rather than dramatically. The surface dulled from wet shine to a soft matte finish, then faint cracks near the edges like a brownie top appeared.
The center was set enough not to slosh, yet still soft enough that a tester came out with moist crumbs rather than clean dryness. Overbaking is always the danger; the pie continues to firm as it cools, and the best texture lives between custard and truffle.
This is what makes their pie a higher level of difficulty.
Adding toppings to taste is always best. For this competition, they allowed the taster to decide between three different types of whipped topping; cream, coffee, or unsweetened whipped topping to soften its intensity, but the pie itself remained the center of attention: dark, compact, and quietly fragrant with whiskey.
The apple-cherry pie brings brightness after all that richness. Apples give structure, pectin, and gentle tartness, while cherries bring juice, color, and perfume.
The best filling balances firm apple slices with cherries that can collapse slightly into a red syrup without disappearing. Lemon juice sharpened the fruit, sugar draws out liquid, and spices were chosen carefully so they supported the filling rather than covered it.
For the apples, the slices were even enough to bake at the same rate but not so thin that they melt completely. A mix of tart and sweet apples gave depth and tossing them with sugar before assembly let the fruit begin releasing juice.
Cherries can release much more liquid than expected, so their juice has to be respected. This team used fresh cherries, pitted and tested for firmness, but not too firm. The filling should look lush, not soupy, before it goes into the crust.
Thickener is the quiet architect of the apple-cherry pie. Apples need less help because they contain natural pectin, but cherries are juicier and demand support. A little cornstarch gives a smooth set when the filling bubbles fully in the oven.
As the apple-cherry filling is piled into the lower crust, there was a mound slightly in the center, because the fruit would settle as it baked. Small pieces of butter were dotted over the top to round the juices.
The upper crust was an intricate weave of lattice, leaving room for steam to escape. Brushing with egg wash gave it shine, and coarse sugar added a faint crunch to the finished surface.
The pies had to be watched carefully to ensure they didn’t overcook or that the crust would cook too quickly, or not at all.
The filling needed to bubble visibly, not just at the edge but through the lattice openings, because that bubbling signals the starch had activated.
The final table of pies offered three different kinds of satisfaction. The pecan pie was glossy, nutty, and caramel-soft, with a top that shattered gently under the fork.
The chocolate fudge whiskey pie was dense and dark, its crust giving way to a filling that tasted deeper than plain sweetness. The apple-cherry pie was lively and fragrant, its fruit bright enough to refresh the palate after richer slices.
Recipes gave measurements to the judges, but it’s the pies that begged for attention, to be tasted and savored.
By the time the slices are served, the details will disappear into pleasure, leaving only flaky crust, set filling, and the quiet satisfaction of three pies made with love, expertise, and care.
The women stepped back, staring at the three full-sized pies and six smaller mini-pies. They smiled at one another and nodded.
With three minutes to spare, they were done and whether they won or not, the pies were spectacular.