Mini Pies For Night
“In front of us flames. In the air that smell of burning flesh. It must have been about midnight. We had arrived—at Birkenau, reception center for Auschwitz.”
It’s hard to make this book sweet.
Even though I first read it in middle school, and have read it a couple times since.
I’ve had plenty of time to digest, to let the messages and images sink in.
I made this dessert weeks ago.
I just couldn’t find the words that seem to flow so smoothly from Elie Wiesel. And, honestly, I still can’t.
Not really.
How do you make the Holocaust sweet?
You can’t.
You can make a dessert based on its imagery, its stories, but the holocaust should never be taken lightly.
And yet, I’m posting a recipe on it.
Not to make light of it.
Because I think it’s something we should remember and I think now is a good time to remember.
It took me about a week and a half to come up with a recipe after re-reading this memoir. And, really, I only came up with one because my mom handed me a can of blueberry pie filling and told me that I had to make something with it.
Blueberry pie filling is a dark blue, almost black, and reminds me of the night. It was fitting. So was the idea of using what was given to me, even if I don’t like it… the idea of taking what you have and making something, anything, with it.
I decided to make mini pies because food was scarce and you had to save the very little you had.
The pies still didn’t scream Night, though. And I debated on whether or not I wanted to add a top crust. If I wanted to use the top crust to tell the story of imprisonment, torture, and survival that loomed over Elie and everyone else in Auschwitz.
Reflecting on the memoir, I decided to add a top crust that looked like bars.
This book is heavy. It’s meant to be.
It’s meant to stay with you, to warn you, to scare you, and to teach you.
It felt important to add those bars.
Crust
-1 1/3 c all purpose flour
-1/2 tsp salt
-1/2 c shortening
-2-3 tbsp ice cold water
1. Combine the flour and salt in a medium-sized bowl.
2. Using your fingers, squish the shortening into the flour. You can leave some chunks of shortening—it’ll make your crust flaky—just make sure you only leave a few small chunks and work the rest in.
3. Add the cold water, little by little, until your dough is soft and smooth. You should be able to form a smooth ball without it sticking all over your fingers.
4. Separate the dough into four balls around the size of plums.
5. Roll the dough out into little circles on a lightly floured surface. I rolled mine out to about a quarter of an inch.
6. Place each dough disk into it’s own mini pan. I used 4, 3-inch corning ware dishes. You can use mini tart pans or mini cake pans if that’s what you have.
7. Pat the dough down and make sure it covers the sides. I stopped the dough from overflowing the sides of the pan because I didn’t want to have to crimp them or make them look fancy… fancy just doesn’t fit with this memoir.
8. Take the left over dough and roll it into a final disk.
9. Using a butter knife, cut the last circle of dough into strips to create the bars for the tops of the pies.
10. Spoon the blueberry pie filling into the pies. You can go almost to the top. I left about a quarter of an inch.
11. Lay the bars of dough on top of the mini pies
11. Place the pies on a cookie sheet and cook at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. The dough should be just slightly golden when you take them out. They’ll still look mostly white, which felt fitting… for obvious reasons.
Let the pies cool after you take them out.
I let mine sit for about an hour before grabbing a new book and a spoon, and settling in for the night.
