By Tom Harte
It can be a flat chunk of concrete, a portion of a tectonic plate, the NASDAQ symbol for Silicon Laboratories or the name of a city in West Virginia, California or Wisconsin. But when I hear the word, I think of pie. I'm talking, of course, about slabs.
A slab pie, as the name suggests, is merely a pie baked not in a circular pan but in a rimmed, oblong baking sheet or jelly roll pan, thus creating a rectangular pastry -- a slab, if you will. Though a slab pie doesn't quite look like a conventional pie and might be scoffed at by pie purists who often don't regard even cobblers as worthy of the same reverence as a standard pie, slab pies clearly have the same noble heritage as their more spherical brethren.
Historians trace the origin of pie as far back as 9500 B.C. and the ancient Egyptians. Drawings of these early versions can be found etched on the walls of the tomb of Ramses II.
The Greeks carried on the tradition of pie-baking and the Romans followed suit. From Rome pie traveled, along the almost 400 great roads of the empire, to nearly every part of Europe.
Then pie traveled to America with the pilgrims, and though an English specialty, before long it became identified with this country, more highly prized than cake by many, even if not nearly as fussy.
It is against this backdrop that the slab pie has emerged as something of a phenomenon, but only recently. For example, none of the nearly dozen cookbooks I own devoted solely to pie contains a recipe for a slab pie -- not even Rose Levy Beranbaum's hallowed "Pie and Pastry Bible." Moreover, "The Oxford Companion to Sugar and Sweets" makes no mention of it.
This is unfortunate, because slab pies have a lot going for them. They can feed a crowd, and they're easier to transport than round pies. Both of these attributes make them perfect this time of year for summer picnics, reunions or church suppers. Moreover, slab pies are easier to eat on such occasions. You can gobble them up right out of hand. Think of them as giant Pop-Tarts.
Crucial for crust-lovers, since slab pies are generally thinner than round pies, they have a higher crust-to-filling ratio. Additionally, slab pies are far less intimidating to make than round pies. You don't even have to worry about fancy fluting of the crust. Slab pies are supposed to look rustic. They really are as easy as pie. Round pies often aren't.
Given all of this, it's not surprising more and more cooks are proselytizing slab pies, chief among them Martha Stewart. Her passion for slab pies has led some to conclude she just might have invented them. Not quite.
It turns out that the late ElLouise Kollmann, mother of Susan Janzow of Cape Girardeau, while living on the family farm in Clark, Missouri, already had become well known for her slab pies while Martha was still in grade school. Her recipe, written in her own hand in the front of her well-worn copy of the "Betty Crocker Cookbook" (adjacent to instructions for making baby pig formula) goes back more than half a century. After all that time, it may suddenly be the shape of things to come.
Combine flour, 1/4 cup sugar, salt and baking powder. Cut in shortening until mixture is the texture of coarse meal. Add egg and milk, mixing lightly until moistened. Using half of dough, line the bottom of a 10x15-inch rimmed baking sheet. Combine apples, remaining sugar and cinnamon and scatter over crust. Dot with butter. Roll remaining dough into a 10x15-inch rectangle and cover pie, cutting a few slits in top crust. Brush with cream. Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 325 degrees and bake another 30 minutes or until apples are done.
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