Pie to Warm the Heart and Soul

My identity hasn’t always been a fixed one. The current guise I sport of “all-natural mountain mama”, comfortably wearing plaid flannel shirts and sturdy work boots without a stitch of make-up on, my gray-streaked hair up in a messy bun, has been honed and adjusted and tweaked for decades before arriving at its modern iteration. 

So too with my musical interests, hobbies, and, not least of all, diet. In addition to wearing blue eye shadow, sporting a jet-black head of hair, and exhibiting a fondness for vintage polyester garments in my early 20’s, I also tried on a range of dietary choices. 

From ages 20-24, I maintained a vegan diet, eschewing all forms of animal food on my plate and in my glass. Following that, I pursued a macrobiotic diet for one year, consuming abundant amounts of whole grains, legumes, local vegetables, seaweed, rice syrup for sweetening things up, and bidding adieu to eggs, dairy, meat, tropical fruits, nightshade vegetables, coffee, and more. Then came my year of raw vegan eating. So long as it wasn’t cooked or animal derived, I ate it. If I wanted pizza on Friday night, I’d begin sprouting the grains for it on Monday, make them into a dough on Tuesday, and then rest them in a food dehydrator for all of Wednesday and Thursday. The “cheese?” It was made from cashews. 

I wasn’t partaking in these diets willy-nilly, mind you, shifting my preferences and interests like the wind. No, my approach was much more studious and rigorous. I was pursing a degree in nutrition at the time (I currently hold bachelor’s degrees in both nutrition and sociology), and wanted to have first-hand, anecdotal experiences for the diets I was reading about in my course textbooks. The winter of that raw diet, though, is what ultimately turned the tide for me and my dietary dabbling, setting the scene for the way I currently eat, live, and look. 

For several years, I lived on a homestead in Weaverville, North Carolina, belonging to a large family. Three generations resided across the property, alongside a family-owned and operated business, an office, several large gardens, and a few ancillary buildings. The home I lived in was built over the course of a decade by one of the family members, using timber sourced exclusively from the property. Everything inside and outside of the home was fashioned from wood, including the floors, walls, and ceiling. A creek flowed directly underneath the house, and could be heard babbling and gurgling year round. Our heat came from a centrally placed wood stove and our water from a well on the property. 

While everything about our lodging was natural and of the local environment, our diet that raw-food winter couldn’t have been any less so. As flurries fell and icicles formed on the roof line, we ate young coconuts and avocadoes by the case. We literally had a standing order at a foreign foods store in Asheville. We crunched on lettuces and cucumbers grown in hot houses far, far from the mountains of western North Carolina. One of those frosty mornings, while eating some tepid soaked oats (not cooked, mind you, but soaked overnight in cold water), a deep and abiding craving arose in me. I wanted not only to feel warm externally, but internally, as well. I wanted foods that were both warm and warming. I wanted curries, and roasts, and savory pies, and, more than anything, I wanted root vegetables. 

The Smoky Mountain region has a long, and storied, history of root cellaring. Homesteads frequently possessed a log-built home, barn, blacksmith shop, springhouse, root cellar, corn crib, chicken house, hog pen, and smokehouse, according to historian George Ellison. Cabbage, potatoes, apples, beverages, and root vegetables aplenty were stored away at the end of the growing season and consumed all winter and early spring-long, until the ground could again be worked. While the advent of electricity and home refrigeration largely circumvented the need for root cellaring, the low-fi preservation method still has its perks (fantastic if the power goes out) and its fans. 

What I wanted that winter in Weaverville weren’t raw root vegetables. No, I wanted tubers and taproots caramelized from high heat and slow roasting. I wanted mashes and purees and hot, robust soups. I wanted foods that warmed my very heart and soul. This Curried Winter Vegetable Pie would’ve scratched that itch and then some. Savory, hearty, and warming, it’s just the thing you’ll want to slice into when the mercury plummets and the clouds grow heavy and grey. My diet, and overall aesthetic, may have altered tremendously in the ensuing decades but my commitment to delicious foods and an authentic sense of self have never waivered.

Curried Winter Vegetable Pie 

Recipe from A Year of Pies: A Seasonal Tour of Homebaked Pies by Ashley English, Lark Books, 2010. This pie is equally delicious served hot or cold. Makes a lovely lunch or a comforting dinner. Makes: 6-8 servings.

You Will Need

• ½ recipe Basic Pie Dough (recipe follows)

Filling: 

• 1 pound yellow potato (such as Yukon gold), peeled and cubed
• 1 pound celeriac, peeled and cubed
• 1 pound parsnips, peeled and cubed
• 4 eggs, separated
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 2 teaspoons sea salt
• 1 teaspoon curry powder
• 1 teaspoon garam masala*

Egg wash: 

• 1 egg yolk
• 1 teaspoon water

To Make

• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. 

Prepare the Crust: 

• Roll out one disk of dough into a 12-inch circle and fit into a 9-inch pie pan. Trim the crust overhang to 1-inch and crimp the edges decoratively. Place in the refrigerator.

Prepare the Filling: 

• Bring 2 quarts water to a boil in a large pot. Add the potatoes and celeriac, and cook for 10 minutes. Add the parsnips and cook for an additional 15 minutes. 
• Drain the vegetables and place in a large bowl. 
• In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until frothy (beating the whites and yolks separately imparts of bit of lightness into the final pie). 
• Using a potato masher or large spoon, mash the cooked vegetables with the cream, butter, egg yolks and whites, salt, curry powder and garam masala. 

Assemble the Pie: 

• Pour the filling mixture into the chilled crust. 
• Whisk the egg yolk and water in a small bowl, then use a pastry brush to brush the wash over the edges of the crust. 
• Set the pie pan on a rimmed baking sheet and bake 45 minutes, until the center of the pie is firm. Cool before slicing. 

*An aromatic multi-use spice blend, garam masala is native to northern Indian cuisine. Although the specific combination varies from region to region within India, most garam masalas typically include some blend of peppercorns, cinnamon, cumin, cardamom, nutmeg, star anise, coriander seeds, cloves, mace, and Malabar leaves. Look for garam masala at foreign and natural foods stores or from online retailers. You can also simply substitute an equal amount of curry powder. 

Basic Pie Dough

Yield: 2 pie dough disks. 

You Will Need

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 ¼ teaspoons salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) butter, chilled and cubed 
• ¾ cup ice water

To Make

• Mix the flour and salt together in a medium-large mixing bowl. Using a pastry cutter or two forks incorporate the butter until the mixture resembles a coarse meal (you should still have rather large bits of butter when you’re done).
• Slowly drizzle in the ice water. Stir with a mixing spoon until the dough starts to clump.
• Transfer the dough onto a floured work surface, and fold it together into itself using your hands. The dough should come together easily but should not feel overly sticky.
• Cut the dough in half and shape into two balls. Wrap each dough ball in cellophane and refrigerate for at least an hour.
• Proceed according to the recipe instructions. Alternately, store the dough disks in an airtight container or zippered freezer bag in the refrigerator for up to 1 week or in the freezer for up to 6 months (you’ll need to move the dough out of the freezer and into the refrigerator 24 hours before you plan to use it).