'absent friends' coconut cream pie

I call this pie 'absent friends' coconut cream pie for two reasons: 1) I was listening to the Divine Comedy when I was baking it and, 2) it was inspired by a piece of pie I shared with my pal Emma on my last night in New York, without our mutual friend Jane there to help us out.


Not only is Emma one of Time Out's Most Stylish New Yorkers, but she's a regular at a brilliant little bar called The Great Jones Cafe. There's more than a dozen reasons I'd recommend visiting this place while you're in town, but here's two: 1) the greatest jukebox I've ever come across and, 2) the coconut cream pie.


Everything that came out of that little kitchen behind the bar smelled and looked Delicious - and I can personally attest to the fact that the cornmeal catfish, the okra, the burger and the sweet potato fries are Delicious. Oh - and the coconut cream pie. But before I tried it, I totally had to be convinced. Despite food being like the centre of my gluttonous universe, I really am not that big on cream. Stoopid, huh? I like custard, and ice cream and even pannacotta - but my inner-lactard just starts freaking out when I'm presented with a pile of the freshly whipped stuff. In any case, I needn't have worried, because coconut cream pie at The Great Jones is just not like all those other pies. It's creamy, but with rich, coconutty custard atop a short and sweet crumb crust that balances perfectly with the silky filling. There's no giant layer of cream spread on the top of the pie: instead, it's adorned with a mound of toasted, shredded coconut - and the cream is served on the side, if you want it. Of course, as soon as I got home, I had to start trying to make this.


So this was my first attempt - and I'm actually very happy with it. I cobbled together a couple of recipes to approximate the Jones's beautiful pie, including the cracker crust from The Hummingbird Bakery's Key Lime Pie and a coconut milk custard from a recipe on epicurious. I skipped the cream top, folding only a little into the custard to lighten it before pouring it into the crust and topped the whole thing with freshly-roasted coconut. It was (and is) really good. I even just got some licks of approval from Quincy Cat, who's eating some with me now. When I ate it with Emma we were missing our friend Jane, back in Melbourne. As I eat it now, I miss Emma - and those great nights at the Jones. At least I can always raise my fork; absent friends, here's to them! x

absent friends coconut cream pie
Adapted from the hummingbird bakery cookbook and epicurious

Notes: I originally made a full quantity of crust, but there was far too much for this pie. I threw some mixture away and still thought it was a little too thick, so I've halved the recipe here: should be about right. I used less coconut than specified in the filling, but was surprised to find it could have done with the extra after all, so I've included the original amount here. Finally, some recipes say that this is best eaten on the day it's made. I think this pie is lovely (and even more coconutty) even two days later, so there!

cracker crust
250 gm digestive biscuits or graham crackers
100 gm unsalted butter

coconut cream filling
2 1/4 cups canned unsweetened coconut milk
2/3 cup sugar
4 large egg yolks
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cornflour
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons shredded unsweetened dried coconut, toasted
3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 cup heavy (whipping) cream
1/2 tablespoon icing sugar

1. Preheat oven to 180/355. To make cracker crust, process biscuits until finely crushed (you can do this with a rolling pin if you like). Add melted butter and process or stir until crumbs come together. Using a large spoon or the bottom of a drinking glass (I find this easier for the sides), press the crumb mixture into a pie tin to form the shell. A good trick for the sides is to use your thumb to keep the mixture down at the rim, while using the glass to press and form the side. Keep doing this around the circumference of the pie, and you should have a nice, even shell. Bake for around 20 - 25 minutes, or until set and golden.

2. Heat the coconut milk to just below boiling point. Remove and cover to keep hot. using an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks with the sugar until pale and voluminous. Whip in the flour, corn flour and salt.

3. While still beating, gradually pour in the warm coconut milk. When all is incorporated, return the mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium-high heat, whisking constantly, until it comes to a boil and thickens, then boil for 1 minute, whisking constantly. Remove the pan from the heat, add the butter, and whisk until melted. Add 3/4 cup of the coconut and 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla.

4. Transfer the coconut cream to a bowl and let cool to room temperature, whisking occasionally to prevent a skin from forming. When cooled, cover the surface with plastic wrap (push in against the custard) to prevent a skin from forming and refrigerate for about 2 hours, until thoroughly chilled and set (You can do this a day in advance).

5. Beat cream with the icing sugar until it holds stiff peaks. With a rubber spatula, gently fold the cream into the coconut custard. Using the spatula, transfer the filling to the crust and smooth the top. Sprinkle the top of the pie with the remaining toasted coconut and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or for up to 4 hours, before serving to set.

Twin Peaks Cherry Pie

On Friday night, four of us sat around my kitchen bench drinking and eating chilli and cornbread and laughing about that old adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. We were laughing because it was something that parents and grandparents used to say – but then we were laughing because I said that I thought it was true.


It reminded me of my first crush. From the moment I laid my eyes on him, I knew that I’d have to master the Cherry Pie. I knew that without this skill – without this recipe – he’d never give someone like me the time of day. And even worse, I knew that I wasn’t the only the only one who felt this way about him. If I ever wanted Special Agent Dale Cooper to marry me, I’d have to be able to make a damn good cherry pie. And on Friday night, after the chili and more wine, we realised that I’d finally done it. As it turns out, I may be a few years too late. Sigh. Anyway, I think the secret was the cherries.


To make a real Twin Peaks Cherry Pie, you need to use tart pie cherries, so on Friday morning I pulled out the super-rare morello cherries I’d bought from an old Polish woman in the summer at the farmer’s market. Now, unless you have a tree or a neighbour with a tree, these little darlings are pretty hard to come by. The day I brought them home, I diligently pit the whole lot and then flash froze them. They’d been in the freezer door and I’d look at them and think of Dale (not Kyle) every couple of days, waiting for the right moment. When it arrived, I made a quart of David Lebovitz’s amazing vanilla bean ice cream and turned on the oven. And everyone agreed that with this cherry pie, I could have won Special Agent Dale Cooper's heart. I suppose it might work on others, too.

Twin Peaks Cherry Pie
This 'should' serve eight people.

1 quantity of easy flaky pastry made with 2 tbsp caster sugar
Milk to glaze (rather than egg)

1 ¼ cup sugar
3 tbsp arrowroot powder (tapioca flour)
2 tbsp corn flour (corn starch)
1 tsp cinnamon
5 – 6 cups of fresh, frozen (not thawed) or tinned (and drained) morello cherries
1 tsp vanilla essence
½ tsp almond essence

Make pastry, halve, wrap in plastic and pop in the fridge to chill for at least one hour (even two).

About 30 minutes before baking, add sugar, arrowroot, corn flour and cinnamon to a large bowl and whisk to combine. Add cherries and essences and turn until well coated with sugar mixture. Set aside for 20 – 30 minutes.

For an easier-to-handle lattice top, roll out top pastry and cut neatly into strips. Use a ruler if you like precision: usually I can’t be bothered. Pop these strips onto a baking paper-lined oven tray and into the freezer for 20 minutes or so. They’ll be easier to handle and weave when they’re firm!

When ready to bake, roll remaining disk of pastry to fit a standard sized pie plate. Trim, leaving a 1cm overhang. Pour in cherries and scrape in all the sugar mixture – this will make your sauce! Carefully arrange firm pastry strips in a lattice weave over the top of the pie. Leave it to rest and soften for a few minutes.

When softened, gently press the strips into the edge and turn under, as for a regular pie. You can then shape the edge to the design you like best, or simply crimp with a fork. Brush with milk and pop into oven. Bake at 220C for 30 minutes then cover edges with foil to prevent burning. Return to oven, turn down to 200C and bake until pie is golden – around 30 minutes (in my terrible oven).

Remove and set aside for around 30 minutes. I know it’s tempting, but if you cut a slice right away it will fall apart! Trust me. Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Kolokithopita (Greek Cheese & Pumpkin Pie) & How to make (the best) Greek cheese pies

When we arrive in Greece, we always take a bus from the airport to the bus station that services the Peloponnese. The bus joins the chaos steaming along newly built highways and speeds past half-completed concrete buildings, through the industrial outskirts of Athens. From the other side of the bus window the chaotic momentum of this magnificent, sprawling, modern city begins already to weave its magic spell on your jet-lagged eyes, making them big and wet again. And then you pull into the big old bus station made of painted tin and it's a different world altogether. Gypsies and business men wait by suitcases and bundles of fabric, while priests read newspapers and old men sell lottery tickets. Old, old Greek music spills through crackling speakers at a volume they can't handle. And people sit down for something to eat before long journeys. I love this wait for all these reasons - and because I always buy a tiropita from the cafeteria.


It's one of the things I do to make sure I'm really there - because in Greece tiropita, or cheese pies, are everywhere. They're sold at stations, through shop windows on the street and in bakeries all over the country, and there are so many varieties that I've accepted I'll never be able to try them all. Outside of Greece, the most well-known seems to be spanakopita, the cheese and spinach pie - but I sometimes worry that it's become one of those dishes people make only when they have a vegetarian coming over. A good Greek cheese pie - let's start calling them pita - should be something everybody loves, something perfect to take to parties, barbecues and to have for dinner with a salad.

This is also a recipe request from my darling friend Yardena who wants the recipe for spanakopita. Instead, I made a kolokithopita (cheese and pumpkin), but have included instructions for turning this into a number of Greek cheese pie delights. And I've also included photos and instructions on how to make Greek cheese pies village-styles, because whenever I make them like this, people swoon. For some reason, many people are scared of using filo pastry. Which is a damn shame because it always seems to me to be the easiest to handle of any kind. In fact, the whole dish is superbly simple and can be thrown together in very little time.


In Greece when you buy tiropita or spanakopita they're often hand-sized and made with flaky pastry, which contrasts wonderfully with the salty, creamy filling. At home, they're usually made with filo like mine below - for this style filo is best. I've used a non-commercial filo that I buy from a Turkish grocery store - you'll see that it's a little thicker and easier to deal with. It also goes wonderfully crispy when brushed with butter and baked. Try Middle Eastern food stores and continental delicatessens, but if you can't find it, just use the commercial variety and adhere two sheets together by brushing with butter to make a thicker piece.

The pumpkin pita has everything that is excellent about the cheese pita, with the sweetness of the pumpkin to contrast with the salty creamy filling. You simply grate the pumpkin into the cheese mixture raw and it cooks inside the pie, lending moisture and lightness without ever becoming soggy. The ricotta, with the help of an egg, sets the filling just firm, and the best thing about making it into a round whirligig is that this spiral of sweet and salty cheese and pumpkin is encased in layer upon layer of thin, crispy casing. To take it to the next level, add a grating of nutmeg and a swirl of good honey to the filling. Trust me, everyone will ask you for the recipe.

Kolokithopita (Greek cheese and Pumpkin Pie)
Note: the amount of pastry (and filling) will depend on the size of your tin or tray. To make spanakopita (spinach and cheese pie), substitute the pumpkin for a bunch of spinach, wilted, strained and finely chopped. Instead of honey nutmeg, use some dill or fennel fronds. For tiropita (plain cheese pie), increase the ricotta and feta by 100g of each. I leave the nutmeg and honey in, but do as you please!

100g butter melted
3 large round sheets of handmade filo pastry, halved or around 12 sheets of commercial filo pastry

For filling:
500g fresh ricotta
400g feta (goat or sheep milk is best)
1 egg
350g pumpkin, grated
a grating of nutmeg
1 tbsp honey
salt & pepper

Preheat oven to 180ºC/350ºF.

Crumble ricotta and feta into a mixing bowl. Add egg, nutmeg and honey, then mash and mix up with a fork until combined. Add grated pumpkin and season with salt and pepper, remembering that the feta is salty. Mix with fork.

Brush tin or tray with melted butter to grease.

Spread pastry out and brush all over with melted butter. If using commercial filo, join two sheets with butter and use as one. Spoon filling along one long edge of pastry almost to the edges. Fold in edges, then roll the pastry away from you to form a tube. Fit into tin, bending gently to curve. Repeat until the spiral is complete. You should have some butter remaining - use this to brush over the top of the pie generously.

Pop into oven for 40 - 50 minutes or until golden brown. In a rental property oven (like mine), you may need to turn the pie halfway through cooking and/or leave it in a little longer. Cut into wedges and serve straight from the pan.

Chicken, Leek and Thyme Pie

Often people talk about the satisfaction gained in making bread. I totally see where they’re coming from, but for me it is, and has always been, pie. A pie is always a surprise, even when you know what’s inside and even if you made it, because every pie is different depending on temperatures, absorbencies, natural sugar levels and lots of other science. But this is the greatest thing about pies, this unpredictability; this is what makes them magic.

One thing I (actually) do like about being Australian is our unique and central position on the international pie matrix. What do I mean, exactly? Well, from our colonisers, the English, we inherit the grand tradition of the savoury pie: flaky pastry filled often, but not always, with a rich meat stew. From other parts of Europe we claim pitas (yum) and strudels (yum) and, more recently empanadillas (and yum!). And from the magic worlds of literature, cinema and television, we (ok, I) have an (literally) unhealthy obsession with American home-style sweet pies (and brackets, evidently). I’d actually planned today to deliver a cherry pie recipe to inaugurate the season, but the early cherries I bought and baked in haste were a touch dull in the end, and it put me off. I’ll make good on the cherry pie soon.

Sweet or savoury though, it doesn’t matter; pie making from scratch gives me the ultimate sense of satisfaction. And so last week when we bought the sweetest, most delicious young leeks from the farmer’s market, I knew that this was the week of the chicken, leek and thyme pie.

When they’re not Thai green curried, or Moroccan spiced up, chicken pies are so damn country, and in the best possible way. The filling in this one is really delicate and fresh with a touch of lemon and is encased in, thanks to Angela Boggiano's Pie book, the easiest flaky pastry you’ll ever make. Although homemade pies can seem a bit of a job, you can always prepare ahead to lessen the workload come dinnertime. In fact, making your pastry in advance gives it extra time to chill and promises a flakier crust, while cooking up the filling ahead of time will only improve the complexity of the flavour. With a bit of practise, putting the pie together will only take you ten minutes, giving you ample time for a quiet sherry in your apron before everyone else in the house smells what’s going on.

Chicken, Leek and Thyme Pie
Adapted from Angela Boggiano’s Pie

Note: This recipe makes enough for one double-crust 25cm pie. The key to success is keeping everything very cold – so feel free to stick the pastry back in the freezer for a few minutes at any stage if you think it's warming up. It really does make a difference!

easy flaky pastry
200gm butter, very, very cold (nearly frozen!)
21/2 cups flour
a pinch of salt
6 or 7 tbsp iced water
1 beaten egg to glaze

pie filling
1 big chicken, about 1.5kg (preferably free-range)
1 large carrot, chopped into three
2 celery stalks, chopping into three
1 onion, peeled and halved
1 more onion, finely chopped
5 or 6 sprigs thyme
1 tbsp olive oil
knob of butter
2 leeks, white and very pale green bits finely sliced
150ml/ 2/3 cup white wine
2 tbsp flour
150ml/ 2/3 cup thin cream
finely grated zest of ½ lemon
salt and pepper

For pastry, whisk flour and salt in a large bowl to mix and aerate. Holding butter with a piece of foil or baking paper, grate into flour. Stir to combine evenly. Sprinkle in 6 tbsp of iced water and use a knife or rubber spatula to bring the dough together. Add a little more water if it needs it, but be conservative. It doesn’t need to be perfectly smooth dough, but a clumpy, crumbly mass. Tip onto a big piece of plastic wrap and shape roughly into a flat disk. Wrap and stick it in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, up to 2 days, or freeze up to 3 months.

For filling, put the chicken in a large pot with carrot, celery and halved onion. Season with salt and pepper, remembering you can always add more later. Cover with water and bring to boil. Simmer for around 45 minutes, or until chicken is done. Remove chicken and set aside to cool. Continue to simmer stock for half an hour or so until it reduces by half. When chicken has cooled enough to handle, remove meat from bones, discarding skin, and shred or chop coarsely.

While your chicken is on the boil, heat oil and butter with medium heat in a large frying pan. Add the leeks and chopped onion, a sprinkle of salt and cook until softened and sticky. Turn the heat up a bit higher and add the wine. Let this simmer for a minute or so until reduced by half, and then add the flour. Stir well to combine, fry for about a minute, and then pour in the cream and about 150ml/2/3 cup of the reduced chicken stock. Strip leaves from thyme sprigs and add to leek and cream along with the chicken meat. Stir to combine well and set aside to cool. Have a taste for salt and pepper and image how good your pie will be.

Preheat oven to 200˚C. Pop a baking tray onto the middle rack to heat up. Divide your pastry into two lumps, one slightly bigger than the other and roll out the largest to line bottom of pie tin. Spoon the cooled filling into the pie and brush round the edges with beaten egg. Roll out the pastry lid and lay over filling, crimping the edges together to seal. Brush the top with beaten egg to give a good glaze and pop into the oven on the baking sheet for 35 – 40 minutes. It’s ready when the top is beautiful and golden.