Easy Miniature Pies

Recently, two seemingly unrelated things happened, which ended up relating in a majorly good way.

One: 
Last month, I hosted a Pampered Chef party at my apartment. All the items were then shipped to me afterwards, and I put them in bags and delivered them to their owners. At the end of it all, I was left with one box containing 6 one-cup prep bowls. Being the conscience-driven individual I am, I immediately emailed my consultant and explained the oversight. She told me that sometimes that happens and Merry Christmas from Pampered Chef. Hurray for me!

Two: 

For the past few weeks I've had a craving for apple pie. An intense I-need-to-bake-one-right-now craving. 


Those two things came together when I saw this blog post about homemade mini pies. The pies were made in mason jars, but I don't have mason jars. However, I then followed the Amazon link to the mason jars and discovered they were one cup. And what did I have lying around but a free set of one-cup jars! 


So I made my long-awaited apple pie. Personal sized, because then I didn't have to share. It was easy and delicious, and you're crazy if you don't make them immediately.

Step 1: Make the Dough 

(I refrigerated it for about 30 minutes before rolling it out.)

Put crust around the inside of the jar. 

The dough recipe I used was:

2 c. flour

1/2 t. salt

4 T. butter

2/3 c. vegetable shortening

5 T. water

[It ended up making enough crust for 10 mini pies with a smallish-size ball of dough leftover, so basically it makes a lot. But there are about a million ways to make pie crust. I just wouldn't recommend Pioneer Woman's recipe. I've tried it 3 times with no success.]

Step 2: Make the Filling

For apple pie:
6 Granny Smith apples, peeled and sliced
1 1/2 C. sugar
1/8 t. nutmeg
1/2 t. cinnamon
2 T. flour


[Again, there are about a million ways to make filling for apple pie. Sometimes I also include a squirt of lemon juice just for kicks.]

You can also use any pie filling if you're not that fond of apple. Cherry? Blackberry? Pecan? The choices are endless.

Step 3: Put crust on the top of the filling  

[and cut a hole or some type of indent in the top (for the steam to come out)]

Step 4: Place in Freezer or Bake Immediately

I actually made these twice. The first time, I forgot that I wanted to freeze a couple to make later. So I ended up with 5 cooked pies. I put them in the oven at 350 for about 50 minutes. 

I ate one, saved two, and brought two to work and made my coworkers guess my middle name to win a pie.

This time around, I just made four and froze them all. I like looking at them in my freezer and thinking about all that crusty apple goodness. (That actually didn't sound good, probably due to my use of the word crusty. But I do love crust, so I'm keeping it.)

NOTE: This is not actually how the jars are currently stacked in my freezer. After taking this picture, I closed the freezer door and went about my business. Then, I opened the door, and one of the jars slid off and fell to the floor with a large, frightening bang. Thankfully, it didn't crack. But I learned my lesson that jars should not actually be stacked like this in the door. They will fall.

So that's how my craving for pie ended up relating to my free one-cup bowl set. And they're so perfect! After you eat a few bites, drop a scoop of ice cream right in there. So. Good.

I would totally make more and give them away for Christmas gifts. But first I have to buy jars I wouldn't mind not getting back. Here's the link again to those mason jars. Who wouldn't love a personal pie for Christmas? No one, I tell you.

UPDATE (12/13): I looked in the freezer last night, and one of the jars did break! I'm very sad about this. Don't be like me. Be smart and don't stack!

Flashback Friday--The Year of the Cabbage Patch

Christmas Flashback #1

So I don't actually remember wanting or receiving a Cabbage Patch Doll for Christmas. I don't remember playing with one or ever having one, in fact. But apparently I did and I have, and little me looks pretty darn happy. 


This was the short-lived bang era and also clearly a time when I didn't mind wearing stripes. After this, I refused to wear stripes until about a year ago. Now, for some reason I keep buying myself shirts with stripes. I don't know what's going on. But that's really beside the point. The point being that this is me with a Cabbage Patch Doll at Christmas.

The Egg Roulette Game

This is the second time eggs have played a significant role in a post on this blog. 

The first was earlier this year in what turned out to be one of my favorite posts, when a blizzard hit Oklahoma, and I found myself wandering from store to store looking for 3 eggs with which to bake some cupcakes. (It might not sound like all that much, but I encountered more than a few ridiculous obstacles along the way.)

In that case, it all ended well, and I moved on from that incident, thankful for eggs and cupcakes and the blizzards that make life exciting every once in a while. 

This egg story ends a bit differently. 

I've not yet shared this story with you, because it makes my family look even crazier than we did during the pinata incident. But I feel the time has come. As such, let's flashback to our family camping trip a few weeks ago, and I'll tell you about a little game we invented: Egg Roulette. 

It all started with the carton of eggs pictured above. Every camping trip, my parents team up to cook a delicious breakfast of eggs and bacon over a tiny camping stove. My dad is egg master; my mom is the bacon queen. As such, for as long as I can remember my mom has packed a huge carton of eggs and a few pounds of bacon for our camping breakfast.

On Saturday morning (or maybe it was Sunday; I can't remember), we ate eggs and bacon until our stomachs protested, and then we ate no more. 

"Come on, you guys," my mom said, holding up the near-empty egg carton, "there are still 5 eggs left. You couldn't eat five more eggs?" 

She was slightly annoyed because there's a strange--but real--sense of accomplishment when you're able to condense the packing at the end of a camping trip and come home with less than you brought. It's understandable why mom didn't want to have to pack up the entire carton when there were only five eggs left.

"Why don't we just throw them at trees?" That was my bright idea. Apparently when you're camping, you revert back to being a twelve-year-old and come up with ingenious, age-appropriate ideas like throwing eggs at trees.

"No, we can't do that," my mother's voice of reason replied. 

"Okay, well why don't we stand in a circle, throw them up in the air, and see who they land on." 

That one was straight from my dad. 
Now you see where I get it. 

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, it probably won't surprise you to know that as my mom's eyes widened in shock and the boys laughed, I was buying my ticket and hopping on the express train to Crazy Town. 

"That's a great idea!" I shouted. 
"What?" my mom said, looking at me with even wider eyes. "You can't do that!" 
But for me there was no going back. "No, it's totally awesome. We have to do it."
Then, my dad jumped in again with a brilliant and necessary addition. "Everyone should hold a plate over their head, so they won't get egg in their hair. It's like--"
"Egg roulette!" I'm not sure who the suggestion came from, but it was perfect. And so it was decided. 

My two brothers, Jordan, and I were all going to get an egg. My dad wanted to throw but not actually be in the "game," so he got the last egg. (A true evil genius he is to create the stupid idea but not actually participate.) My sister and mom were smart and offered to stay out of the way of the yolk and just take pictures. 

The four of us were each going to take a paper plate to hold over our head. On the count of three, we'd throw the eggs up in the air (my dad would throw one too), and then we'd put the plates over our heads and wait for the eggs to come crashing down. 

And since I can't do anything without a point, we made rules: 

Whoever got the least egg on them won.
Whoever got splattered the most, lost. 

At this point, I was still thinking this was the best idea ever. 
I now believe someone spiked my trail mix. 

So we set off across the road (because we didn't want egg pieces all over our campsite), seven people carrying cameras, paper plates, and raw eggs. The whole time my mom was trying to talk us out of it. Spoiler alert: she didn't.

And--another spoiler alert--I lost. Of course. Is anyone surprised?

Here's how you play: 

Step 1: Get in a circle

Step 2: Throw eggs in the air

Step 3: Point and Laugh

[This step is vital to the success of the game. 
If you can't laugh at yourself and the other players, then you're just a circle of sad idiots throwing eggs at each other.]

Step 4: Determine a Winner

It clearly wasn't Austin.

Or me.
You can't see it, but I also had egg yolk trickling down my right pant leg, the rest of my shirt, and my entire right arm.

And the winner was... Jordan!  
He found the tiniest bit of egg on his arm after a thorough search.
I don't know how he escaped unscathed.

Step 5: Help your fellow players when they find yolk in their hair.

Step 6 (if necessary): Search for wounds

We all rushed over after my brother Austin shouted, "It drew blood!"

And the 7th and final step: Gather the idiots competitors together and take a picture

After this, we cleaned ourselves up and busted open a pinata. 
Cuz that's how we do it on the Reese Family Camping Trip.