archive for February, 2013
We went to Muskoka this past weekend.
It snowed big beautiful flakes for near two straight days.
Those ones that just seem to hover there.
The kind that remind you that winter
is still at least a little bit,
that make you
crave crackling fires and wool socks.
That make you think of homemade bread
and bowls of soup.
We saw wild turkeys,
and waterfalls that had turned to ice.
We walked on frozen lakes,
on snowy paths
saw fishing huts lined up in a long straight row.
It was nice.
The photos you see here are unrelated
but beautiful I think.
They’re from a day I spent with Martine & John
almost two years ago now.
Amazing how time passes.
these are back in stock
Photos: John Cullen
Props: Martine Blackhurst
Food: Nikole Herriott
If you don’t know Tim from his blog
you may know him from Instagram.
And if you don’t know him from either,
I think maybe you should.
He’s just one of those guys whose photos
bring a smile to your face.
We’ve not met in person,
but I’ve always sorta assumed we’ll pull up a chair someday.
Probably on an old veranda someplace
with biscuits and sweet tea
and the company of Tara O’Brady.
FOR THE LOVE OF PIE — a series that celebrates the simple things.
Today, Tim Robison and his French Silk Pie.
Tim lives in Asheville, NC with his fiancé Amanda.
He’s an illustrator, photographer
and a regular contributor to Kinfolk Magazine.
French silk pie with pecan shortbread crust. The original recipe calls for a standard pie crust. I found that a shortbread crust works much better. We also switch it up sometimes and divide the pie into 4 small tarts. To me it’s chocolate in its finest form. Rich, dense, smooth with a subtle salty bite at the end. It’s the best.
BEST SERVED WITH?
I enjoy it best on its own with a good strong cup of coffee. However, a dollop of fresh whipped cream wouldn’t hurt.
ONE OR TWO THINGS?
Good people and good food! (preferably together)
French Silk Pie by Tim Robison
- 3 sticks (1 ½ cups) unsalted butter, at room temperature
- ½ cup sugar
- ¼ cup PURE maple syrup
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 3 cups all purpose flour
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 1 cup dried cranberries
- 1 cup pecan pieces, toasted
- 1 cup sugar
- 3/4 cup butter--room temperature
- 3oz unsweetened chocolate melted and cooled
- 1-1/2 teaspoons good vanilla extract.
- 3 eggs
For the crust:
- Mix together butter, sugar and maple syrup until well blended. Add the vanilla and stir to combine. Add flour one cup at a time, mixing entirely after each cup is added. Stir in salt and pecans. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Press dough evenly to 1/4" thick into a prepared 7"-9" pie tin (or four 4" tart shells) Remove any excess dough around edges of tin (depending on your pans, you may have extra batter left over --bake those as you would a standard shortbread cookie). Bake for 18-20 minutes, until lightly browned all over. Set aside and let crust cool completely. Dough freezes well or can be stored in the refrigerator for several days.
For the filling:
- Using a steel blade food processor, process sugar and butter until very smooth and light in color (about 5 minutes on high). Slowly add chocolate while processing. Process for a few minutes more, scraping sides often. Add vanilla and then eggs one at a time. Process on high until incredibly smooth (another 5 minutes). Pour filling into cooled pie crust and chill over night.
- *Note -- You want to process the filling longer than you think. Check it often to make sure it achieves its 'silky' like consistency. If not processed long enough the pie will feel grainy when served.
Keep refrigerated. Serve cool or at room temperature.
I was surprised when I first arrived in Puglia.
I’d taken the train there,
a near full day whizzing past
small towns, long fields
and the Adriatic Sea.
Eight or so hours of inspiration from my seat.
But still, I hadn’t expected the south to look that way.
I hadn’t dreamt of the stark whites
and beautiful creams.
Nor, the light sandy beige.
I hadn’t considered
that a short moss might grow
beneath the olive trees.
I hadn’t expected
the flat, pale, beauty of it all.
The lack of rolling hills
and terracota soil.
I don’t know what it was I’d expected.
It’s almost as though I hadn’t dreamt big enough.
I’d heard how wonderful the food was.
How different the tomatoes taste,
and how fresh the cheese.
But I wasn’t prepared for
backyards of oranges,
roadsides of arugula
or gardens tucked amidst olive groves.
I hadn’t thought of the seafood.
Somehow I’d kinda forgotten
just how extraordinary travel can be.
PS: find a little more from our trip, here.
Photos: Michael Graydon
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