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Every week we’ll post a recipe that we both made. This week’s recipe was Southern Fried Pies, found over at Group Recipes. Printable recipe can be found at the bottom of this post.

Robyn’s Take:

This week’s recipe was chosen by Nance. I okayed it because – I think we’ve established this – both Nance and I generally look at the finished product for a recipe and don’t bother to do much more than glance at the ingredients and instructions. So when the time came for me to make these pies, I actually looked at the recipe and I was like “JESUS CHRIST, NANCE. WHAT THE FUCK?!”

One thing you need to know about me, and I feel certain that I’ve said this before: I ain’t making no damn pie dough from scratch. It just is NOT going to happen, and I will save you some time here, folks. Don’t tell me how easy it is, don’t send me “Granny’s OMG Best Pie Crust Ever, Only Takes 30 Seconds to Make, Perfect Results Guaranteed Every Time!” recipe. I’m not making pie dough from scratch. NOT GONNA. NEVER. SO HUSH.

(Amanda is rolling around in agony right now and her high horse is totally snorting and pawing at the ground.)

Also, the original recipe played it pretty fast and loose with the filling. Basically – “prepared filling.” Okay, well, this is going to be easy, isn’t it?

Ingredients:

Pie dough and prepared pie filling. I decided to make blueberry pies, obviously. Not shown: Crisco, which is what you fry your pies in.

On a side note, very hot oil makes me kind of nervous. One morning in November 1996 (so, like, before many of you were BORN), we were making a big breakfast for, um, breakfast. Fred was in charge of making gravy, and as he was stirring together the oil and flour, he got all VIGOROUS with his stirring. I was standing next to him cooking the scrambled eggs, and suddenly I thought to myself “Hmm. My foot feels odd.”

GODDAMN RIGHT my foot felt odd. A tsunami of boiling oil and flour had landed on TOP of my motherfucking foot, and was in the process of merrily burning the shit out of it. I screamed and backed away from the stove, and then Fred bent down and wiped the boiling oil off the top of my foot, removing a layer of skin and burning the shit out of his hand in the process. We spent the day in the emergency room and I could barely walk for a month afterward.

So I tend to avoid boiling oil, is my point. Anyway.

Then I was like “WHY are we making pie again? I’m not even that crazy about pie. No one in this house is all that crazy about pie!”

“I like pie!”

“Me, me! I’ll take some pie!”

“Oh my ceiling cat! There’s PIE?!”

I decided to use just one of the pie crusts, instead of both, since Fred and I were in agreement that we weren’t going to be any kind of big fans of these little annoying PAIN IN MY ASS fried pies.

Unroll the pie crust.

While this part was going on, I plopped a large amount of solid Crisco into the cast iron pan and set it over medium heat. I did take a picture, but it came out blurry and I decided to delete rather than share it. YOU’RE WELCOME.

I used a big plastic cup to cut out my individual pies.

Plopped some filling on each pie dough round.

Folded ’em over, and crimped the edges with a fork dipped in water.

Don’t be impressed by the ONE pretty pie I managed. The other three barfed out their fillings all over the counter.

The Crisco was melted and hot, so I put the pies in.

I wish I’d been paying attention to how long they were cooking before I decided to turn them over, because it was TOO FRIGGIN’ LONG. The one on the right was allllmost burnt.

You see all that oil flying through the air? What a pain in the ass to clean up.

When I decided they were done, I removed them from the oil and put them on paper towels to drain. After they’d cooled for a couple of minutes, I sprinkled them with Turbinado sugar. Then I used the rest of my dough to make a weirdly-shaped pie, and threw the rest of the pie dough in the Crisco to cook. Yes, I could have re-rolled the pie dough, but

Then I put the other four pies on a plate and tried to take a decent picture.

Fuck you, you fucking pies.

The verdict? I actually liked them. In fact, I liked them so much that the chickens and dogs didn’t get ANY of those pies. Fred didn’t like them, because he doesn’t like blueberry pie. If I were to do it over again, I’d probably use apple butter or cherry jam as the filling.

Will I make these again? No, but only because the cleanup was a pain. I’d happily eat them if someone made them for me in their own kitchen. Or actually, I’d make them myself if someone else came in and cleaned up after me.

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Nance’s take:

Sorry about this entry being late. Some of us worked all weekend and it appears that some of us celebrated 420.  Are you high, Felina Marie?

If there is a recipe on here that isn’t healthy just go ahead and assume that I’m the one who picked it. I have a serious sweet tooth and I admit that our web site makes it awfully convenient for me to indulge in questionable food choices.  Ha!  I seriously just tried to justify why I chose fried pies for the recipe this week.  Like, really.  I don’t need to justify shit, man.  It’s FRIED PIES!

First, I have to tell you about the crap I had to go through just to make these freaking pies.  My mom has had a thing about stainless steel cookware that has been driving me batshit for years. She always yaps at me about how my aunt Red still uses the stainless steel cookware that she got when she was first married (50+ years ago). And how it still looks like new! She’s been telling me about this stainless steel cookware for years.

When I saw a set of Wolfgang Puck’s cookware at the store I picked it up for her. I guess we’ll just call it a shut-the-fuck-up-already gift (because that’s exactly what it was).  It was cheap enough and I figured she would get over her stainless steel fascination when she got tired of scrubbing scorched food all the time.  I also wasn’t expecting much from them because they’re a celebrity brand and I don’t have much faith in that kind of stuff.  Can you say the Hulk Hogan Ultimate Grill?  But, of course, I’m completely wrong and OHMYGAWD, WE LOVE THESE FREAKING POTS & PANS!

But the real kick in the ass?  My mom is an ASSHOLE about them.  She watches us when we’re using them (lest we do something harmful to them).  She even had the audacity to critique the way I washed them one day (and trust me, I am a maniac about clean dishes).  It’s a TO-DO any time we want to use them and I have already threatened her more than once that I will buy my own set because she’s such a fucking bitch about hers.

Which leads me to the making of the fried pies.  I wanted to use her pan because it was deeper than mine.  I was allowed, but trust me, she was keeping an eye on things.  Seriously.  She’s INSANE (but you guys already knew that).

I may or may not like to torture her when I use them now because I am of the age where she can no longer beat my ass. The set came with spatulas, etc., and I decided I was going to use them only because she actually had them HIDDEN from us. Why? Her answer, “Because I didn’t want yunz messing them up.” Welcome to north of Pittsburgh! And also, how the hell could we possibly mess up kitchen tools?  Jesus H.

Note:  My mom would never in a million years stop me from using any of her things.  Yes, I am doing nothing but torturing Shirley for shits and giggles.  Some adult children need therapy to correct any damage that their parents supposedly did while they grew up.  Me?  Payback is a bitch, Shirley.  Hee!

Shirley (obviously not a very good hand model…moisturize already!) is showing the proper way to measure flour. Do you guys know anybody who doesn’t do this? I wonder if young people today have a clue that you have to measure flour this way. We’re going to have to start doing some basic how-to pages soon.

Shirley used MY camera to get this action shot of me putting the sugar in. Please note: Shirley is welcome to use my camera whenever she wants and I don’t say a word. Who’s not selfish? ME.

It’s right about this time that I figured I would use the pie filling in my morning yogurt.  I thought I had conquered making pie crusts, biscuits, etc., but I assumed it was back to the drawing board when I saw this mess.

Once I used my hands it came together pretty well. I threw it in the refrigerator and used my cell phone to call Rick to tell him he needed to pick up Crisco. Why can’t anybody tell me when they use up something and know we need more? Gah.

Here I am rolling that dough out like it’s my job. I’m using my mom’s metal rolling pin that she’s had for at least 30 years. She got it from one of those door-to-door type sales things. Amway? Yes, I do happen to own many aprons. I just keep thinking that I won’t need to use them and end up having flour handprints all over ass.

I deviated from the recipe and used a bowl to cut the dough out instead of the lid from the Crisco can because it makes for a prettier picture. Heh.

Cherries! I love cherries, but if given a choice I would rather not have the kind that comes in the can. Too much sugar and that thick “sauce” is ridiculous. And is anybody else noticing the ridiculous price of canned fruit? At our local grocery store they wanted $3.99 a can. I accidentally found my fruit at Big Lots for $1.70 a can. WOW.

OMG, you guys! Shirley got Crisco on the side of her precious pan and when I first noticed it I pushed that old woman out of the way and took a picture of it! She was mumbling some pathetic excuse while I was laughing at her and that’s when she dropped her entire spatula into the melted oil. I caught HELL big time for that one and it was SO WORTH IT.

What?

This was pretty simple, but I still fucked it up. My crust wasn’t thin enough and I used too much filling on some of them. Learn from my mistakes. And also, if you’re using apple pie filling it helps to take them out of the can and cut them into smaller chunks. It makes it much easier to work with.

I used TWO of Shirley’s special utensils to put this in her special skillet.

Fried pie is frying.

I thought about making a glaze for them, but it just seemed like a hassle when I already had a mess with just making the pies. I sprinkled sugar on them when they came out of the skillet as a compromise. Next time I’m definitely going to go with a light glaze. They filling is sweet on its own, but it just needed that little oomph that a glaze would add to make it perfect. The entire family agreed that this is a keeper and Shirley was already yapping about how she could see herself eating one of them on a road-trip.

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*Robyn and I are tentatively looking into possibly using DCEP as a virtual piggy bank.  Neither one of us want that kind of sneaky bullshit that you see on other blogs because we’re not into alienating anyone.  Eventually there will be a page about all of this, but we’re just putting our toe in the water right now.  Just know this:  DCEP is not, nor will it ever be, our jobs or our main source of income.  We’re just going to be open to advertising on the side bar and using an Amazon affiliate link.