Call It Paté Brisée, or Just Call It Pie Crust

I don’t understand all the hullabaloo that goes on about making pie crust. I know it’s easy to buy a pre-made crust in a foil pan or the Pillsbury ready-to bake crusts that you just unroll and bake. But seriously, folks, homemade pie crust is incredibly simple, tastes better, and is free of the additives you find in commercially prepared pie crust (it is also, incidentally, reminiscent of playing with Play-Dough). Most people today own a food processor, which makes homemade pie crust even easier. We’re talking 10 minutes, here, and the only other thing you really need is a rolling pin. Lacking that, try a…okay, never mind; just go get yourself a rolling pin if you don’t have one.

I know I’ve discussed the issue of lard versus shortening in pie crust, but if that conversation daunts you, just forget about it. I’m not going to suggest you start rendering your own lard. Traditional French pastry, or pate brisee, is made with butter, and it’s wonderful. I’m going to tell you how to make your own right here.

Last week, Eli’s dad came over for dinner. Eli’s mom was out of town, so we figured the least we could do was invite his dad over. Considering the fact that we have a hundred pounds of venison to eat, I decided to try my hand at Venison Pot Pie. I’d been dazzled by a recipe for Venison Pub Pies (just like pot pies, but smaller, baked in individual ramekins) in one of my cookbooks, Earth to Table by Jeff Crump and Bettina Schormann, and wanted to try something similar (look for that recipe later this week).

Having no pie-crust-in-a-foil-pan (or in a Pillsbury box, for that matter) in the house, I took matters into my own hands – literally.

Eli arrived a short time later to find the table, the floor, and me covered in a fine dusting of flour.

“What are you doing?” he asked me, looking around at the considerable mess, where shortly, I would be expected to arrange place settings. At that moment, it looked like a very unlikely venue for said place settings.

“Making pie crust,” I said innocently, as though he should not have expected me to say anything else, or to be in the middle of anything less than the aftermath of a flour storm. I gave him my best little girl grin (the kind where you clench your teeth together and make your eyes all cute and squinty). He raised his left eyebrow at me and headed for the couch (The remote control lives near the couch. So, incidentally, does the Xbox).

Now, you don’t have to do the pie crust gig as messily as I tend to do. It’s really quite possible not to end up with your kitchen covered in flour. You are certainly entitled to keep your flour on the surface upon which you choose to make your pie crust. I happen to like the snowy effect that results from throwing flour around.

Speaking of throwing flour around, I have to digress for a moment and tell you a story. I have two nephews: Jackson, 3 and Max, 18 months. One day a few months back, as my sister was doing chores around the house and the boys were playing in the living room (so she thought), she suddenly heard uproarious little boy laughter coming from the kitchen. She figured such joyful noises could only mean trouble, and entered the kitchen to find both boys on the top step of the kitchen stool, the open flour bin on the countertop in front of them, and engaged in flinging flour vigorously into the air all around them with the greatest delight.

We must be related, those boys and me.

Anyway, here goes. Paté brisée, unpacked. Side note: if you don’t have a food processor, just use your hands.

Paté Brisée, or Butter Pastry


This makes two ten-inch crusts, or a top and bottom crust for one pie.

2-1/2 cups all-purpose unbleached flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon evaporated cane juice or sugar
2 sticks cold unsalted sweet cream butter, cut into quarters lengthwise, then cut into cubes
up to 1/3 cup ice water (I put ice and water into a glass measuring cup, and then dip it out by the tablespoonful)

Put the flour, salt, and sugar into the bowl of a full-size food processor fitted with the blade, and pulse a few times to blend.

Add the cubed butter and pulse on high until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

With the processor running, dribble the water, a tablespoonful at a time, into the mixture. When the dough forms and starts to pull away from the sides of the bowl, stop the processor. Pulse a few times more if needed to catch any floury bits.

Sprinkle a quarter cupful or so of flour onto a flat surface (I do this on my kitchen table) and use your hand to spread it about so that it coats the surface in roughly a 12-inch circle. Turn the dough out onto the floured surface. Rub a little more flour on your hands, and massage the dough into a smooth ball, working in any bits of flour and butter that are not already blended into the dough, until it’s smooth.

If the dough feels cold to the touch, you don’t need to chill it. You can roll it out now. If it is warm-ish and soft, wrap it in plastic wrap and chill it in the fridge for 15-20 minutes or so, until it’s cold but not rock solid.

Divide the dough in half, and pat into two flat, round disks of equal size. Working with one disk at a time, place the dough on the floured surface. Sprinkle it with a little more flour, and flour your rolling pin as well. Roll out into a 12-inch circle, starting at the center and pressing outward with the rolling pin, turning the rolling pin and repeating in all directions. If the dough starts to stick to the rolling pin, sprinkle it and the rolling pin with a little more flour.

When you have a large circle of dough, about 1/8 inch thick, start at one end and roll it up onto the rolling pin (gently and loosely – you don’t want it to stick to itself).

Starting at one side of a pie plate, gently unroll the dough from the pin so that it unrolls across the pie plate. Use your fingers to gently press the dough into the plate, working any air pockets toward the edge. Use a fork to prick holes in the dough, so that air can escape as it bakes.

For a two-crust pie, fill the pie now, then unroll the second crust on top. Trim the edges with a sharp knife or a pair of scissors, leaving about a half inch overhang. Gently, turn the edges of the crust under and tuck them in. Use either your finger or a fork to press the two folded layers of dough together all around the edge (in the photo above, you can see that I used my fingers – it makes a nice ruffled shape).

Brush unbaked dough with beaten egg or milk, which will make it turn glossy and brown as it bakes. If it’s a sweet pie, sprinkle with a little bit of sugar for a pretty effect.

Bake according to directions for whatever kind of pie you are making.

For a cold pie like lemon meringue, bake the crust before filling it, 20-25 minutes, until golden.

If your crust starts looking too brown during baking, simply cover it with aluminum foil for the remainder of the baking time.

Here’s the printable recipe.

Vive la paté brisée!