buttermilk pie in a cornmeal & lard crust

 

I made this buttermilk pie on the television today, on a local show, Channel 3's "3 Plus You". Or sort of pretended to make it for illustrative purposes with a lovely one I baked the night before standing by. I might have video clips of it and the gnocchi I made on there a few weeks back at some point. I'm not withholding them, I promise. Right now there are technical difficulties in obtaining them. Cue elevator music and clip art. The lights were pleasantly bright in a make believe kind of way, and I wore a floral apron, which I must admit never occurs in real life, and I even proffered a quippy one liner: "If this pie were any more southern it would have a drawl!" That also never happens in real life. Mostly I'm silently licking my fingers, climbing up on chairs with my camera, or staring listlessly at a hateful sink full of dishes.

Watching yourself on video is interesting in that way that a weird bug is interesting. It's curious. In some ways it's like some space age out of body time traveling experience. It's certainly unnatural. Our ancestors would have attributed it to wild magic, no doubt. I think about cultures where people won't let you take their photograph because they believe you're taking a piece of them, of their soul. Part of me thinks that's probably so in a way. But I'm not worried. You can have me, I guess. This is all to say, I'm not very used to seeing myself on camera, and it's novel. I like it because it's a wholly different perspective than regular consciousness. I seem to purse my lips a lot.

So yes, I made a buttermilk pie. I made it after the news. I was setting up my table and heard the anchor say something about a 12 year old being shot in the face, and I laughed a little but not because it was funny. It was just so absurd, to hear something like that in my floral apron & red lipstick laying out my little bowls of flour and egg yolks and lemon juice. I felt bad about it, but then again, that's what people do when they hear disturbing things sometimes. I think it's something the brain does. I think laughing at tragedy is a biological function, is what I mean. I digress. I then demonstrated how to make the buttermilk pie, as well as showed off the fully baked one in its sensual cornmeal and leaf lard crust. I can't really imagine that it ought to ever be in any other sort of crust, though it would be delicious in just about anything. This pie seems wholly evocative of the spirit of a southern Thanksgiving. The essence, its soul of Cruze Farm's buttermilk, pork fat from Link41, and cornmeal from the market are all produced in Tennessee. These are some of the things I'm most thankful for and the inspiration behind so much of my work. So that's why I made it while trying to smile plenty with lipsticked lips on the TV. Which, it seems, I will happily be doing a little more of in the future.

I think to express gratitude for one's good fortune, relative or otherwise, is actually a very proactive thing to do in a world that hurts. Generosity is born out of gratitude. That's important. You may not be able to end suffering, that much is obvious, but you can at least not take what you have for granted. I try to be ever thankful for having a home and for having love and a family and getting to bake so many pies. For being healthy, finally. It makes you happier, so there's really no reason not to cultivate being pleased with whatever it is you have. That also means not indulging in guilt. That's hard for me. I often feel guilty, undeserving of my own happiness. But that isn't right either. I try to respectfully accept the good when it comes and show my gratitude by giving back. Sometimes I actually struggle more to accept peace & contentment than abject misery, which lord knows I've known plenty of. It's a mixed bag, this mortal coil, one I'm ever learning to mindfully take as it comes. It's the time of year when people think about these things, and I think about them a lot.

I'm fearfully grateful, really. Sometimes life seems so good I worry I'll wake from it. It's not without it's pain. People are still people, and I'm robustly human in my imperfection. But the great thing about living the majority of your life in perpetual pain, in constant crisis, is that it makes you really grateful for a simple, mundane existence. For me, my fabulously boring life shared with my lover & best friend is my greatest achievement. When people are nasty or I feel indolent and anxious, I have only to remember that for relief.

You should know that I wanted to tell you about this vision of a black Irish wolfhound I had, and a real dead white rabbit in the rain. But that didn't have much to do with Thanksgiving or TV or buttermilk pie. So I'll tell you about it next time, maybe. It could have something to do with something you can eat, I'm sure.

And happy Thanksgiving to you all. May there be much pie.

Cornmeal Lard Crust

from Sarah Malphrus, pastry chef of Husk Restaurant in Charleston, SC

yields one single crust pie

This crust gets an awesome crumbly texture from the cornmeal, and a ton of flavor from the lard and butter. It's a secret weapon of a crust to have tucked into your apron like a pistol. Or a dagger. Or throwing stars. You know, your weapon of choice. Mine is pie crust. Really can't thank Sarah enough for passing this one along. 

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/3 cup cornmeal

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 cup cold pork fat, cut into 1/2" pieces (I use leaf lard)

1/4 (half a stick) butter, cut into 1/2" pieces

1/4 cup ice cold water

Mix flour, cornmeal, and salt. Cut in fat and butter until no pieces larger than a pea remain. Slowly add the water, working it into the dough with your hands until it comes together. On plastic wrap form the dough into a disc 4"-5" across  wrap, and chill for at least an hour. When ready to use roll out on a floured surface to fit a 9" pie pan, flouring as needed to keep from sticking. 

Buttermilk Pie

from Celeste Albers of Wadmalaw Island Farm & Dairy by way of Sarah Malphrus

yields one 9" pie

I've seen my fair share of recipes for buttermilk pie, but I happen to agree that this is the best. Folding in the egg whites gives it this almost soufflé like texture. It's a very light and airy, almost like a light cake, which isn't what you expect. It hasn't too much sugar or lemon. It's just perfect. It puffs up so golden in the oven, and then settles nicely as it cools. I bake mine on the lower rack in my oven as I find it gets a little brown a little fast on the middle rack. But everyone's oven is different. Remember to bring all your ingredients to room temperature before you start. It matters. I like this so much it is joining Sugar's Chocolate Pie (my grandmother's famous pie that I now make in her stead) in the Thanksgiving pie line-up. So, it's kind of a big deal. 

2 eggs separated, room temp
6 Tbsp unsalted butter, room temp
1 cup  sugar
3 Tbsp flour
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup buttermilk, room temp
powdered sugar (optional, for dusting)
*would also be good with fresh whipped cream

Roll out your crust and put it in your pie pan. Cover in plastic and chill in the fridge while you make your filling.

Heat oven to 350° F.

Beat egg whites until soft peaks form and set aside. With whip attachment cream butter and sugar in a stand mixer. Add yolks to butter-sugar mixture and combine well. Add the flour, lemon juice, nutmeg, and salt to the mixture. Slowly steam in buttermilk and mix for 1 minutes. Fold the whites into the buttermilk mixture.

Remove crust from fridge and pour in mixture. Smooth with spatula and bake for 45-50 minutes or until golden and set in the middle. Cool thoroughly on a rack before serving. Dust with powdered sugar if you like or top with fresh whipped cream.

indoor s'mores with toasted oak marshmallows: food blogger support for sandy

So there was this storm, you might have heard. Wind, water, live wires, and explosions. People lost power, homes, and lives. Even lost children. As a former New Orleans resident who had just left the city two days prior to Katrina, who had to watch on a television from the living room floor through hiccuping tears as the levees broke and the place my heart called home was ripped apart from the inside out, Sandy has brought back a lot of memories. A lot of sad memories. But when the waters receded, there was only one thing to do: rebuild. And that's what there is to do now after Sandy.

Barbara of Culinary Creative and Jenn of Jenn Cuisine proposed that today food bloggers post comforting recipes & encourage our readers to pitch in to help the victims of Sandy. And that's what I'm doing. Nudge nudge. I mean, oak flavored marshmallows... that's gotta be worth something right? 

So why s'mores? I chose them because they bring back childhood memories of campfires, times when roughing it was fun. These indoor s'mores are something you can make inside, something cheerful to keep your chin up when the weather outside is roaring, something that would hopefully bring some levity in the eye of the storm. Made with charred homemade oak marshmallows (yes, I'm on an oak kick!), when you bite them if you close your eyes your really can imagine you've just roasted the marshmallow over an open fire. They kind of take you away.

The shock wears off for us, the unaffected in our cozy homes, the emotional jolt from the news stories does fade. But the reality abides. People all along the East Coast need help, all the help they can get. So here's some arithmetic for you, some formulas, some math-e-matics: if everyone gave a little, that would be a whole, whole buncha dollars. Let's be rad. Some triumph of the human spirit stuff. Let's show our gratitude for having the luxury of being able to care about things like oak marshmallows by clicking below to donate.

The global community the internet has created is a powerful tool, and I hope we can use it to help our neighbors up and down the east coast. Let's suck the poison out of the wound and spit it back into the sea where it came from. Joy can abide even in suffering, it's one of those miracles of humanity, the way we adapt and survive, not just physically but psychologically and spiritually as well. I leave you with this, an excerpt from a piece I wrote when I was dealing with my grief for New Orleans after Katrina, but it seems apropos and I think some New Yorkers might be able to relate in some way now, maybe.




Photo by Bebeto Matthews/ AP


... I am home. And this is home. This is home. It is perfect. It is the hot, molten center of the universe. Mythological creatures still exist here; and if not that parades of men in assless chaps, they exist here, and it's only wonderful. This is Oz, the Rock Candy Mountain, Never Land. At all hours there is a celebration; there is, I mean, a desperate last gasp that lasts suspended in the air. This is the widening gyre. This is the maw...This is our land, and it begrudges us nothing...The swamp reclaimed our streets, and the dead reclaimed the rivers. They float side by side like lumber and have heads like cabbage. It's a new parade. I saw a black man with a tuba walking up the interstate and thought that he should play Amazing Grace because this is idiotic. And we can only, and we know that this is, and we can't say anything. We clean up. And the record plays, "pentagon, tetrahedron, which side are you going to be on?", and I walk everywhere. I walk in the rain, because I don't own an umbrella...

Have a food blog too? You can post and link up all through out November! Visit Barbara & Jenn's blogs to link. Tag posts #FBS4Sandy so they can see your posts! Don't have a food blog? Other Ways You Can Help:

• American Red Cross is providing food, shelter, and other forms of support to hurricane victims. You can donate directly to the Red Cross or  you can also text the word “Redcross” to 90999 to make a $10 donation.
• The Salvation Army is also focused on providing food, shelter, and support to victims, and takes donations for storm relief.
• Feeding America is providing food, water and supplies to those who need it as part of their disaster relief program              

           

 

Homemade Oak Marshmallow S'mores

makes about 24 2" marshmallows or 20 s'mores

 Ingredients 

 • Nonstick vegetable oil spray 

• 1.5 cups water 

• 1/2 toasted oak chips (can be ordered from home brewing supply companies) 

• 3 1/4-ounce envelopes unflavored gelatin 

• 2 cups sugar 

• 2/3 cup light corn syrup 

• 1/4 teaspoon salt 

• 1 teaspoons vanilla extract (optional) 

• 1/2 cup corn starch 

• 1/2 cup powdered sugar 

• 1 box graham crackers

• 1 bag dark chocolate chips 

 Equipment 

• candy thermometer 

• standing mixer 

Cooking Directions 

Line a 13x9x2 inch pan with parchment paper or foil. Coat lightly with nonstick spray. Bring the 1.5 cups of water to a boil and add the oak chips. Remove from heat and steep covered 30 minutes. 

Strain thoroughly through a paper towel lined mesh strainer. Measure a 1/2 cup of the oak water into a bowl and chill until very cold. Measure another 1/2 cup of it into a heavy medium saucepan. Discard extra or save for another use.

Once the oak water is chilled, pour it into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with whisk attachment. Sprinkle gelatin over water. Let stand until gelatin softens and absorbs water, at least 15 minutes. 

Combine 2 cups sugar, corn syrup, and salt with the oak water in the saucepan. Stir over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Attach a candy thermometer to side of pan. Increase heat and bring syrup to boil. Boil, without stirring, until syrup reaches 235-240º F, about 8 minutes. 

With mixer running at low speed, slowly pour hot syrup into gelatin mixture in thin stream down side of bowl (avoid pouring syrup onto whisk, as it may splash). Gradually increase speed to high and beat until mixture is very thick, about 15 minutes. Add in the vanilla extract if using and beat about 30 seconds longer. It will be voluminous & white, begin to pull away from the sides of the bowl, and will fall very slowly in a thick ribbon when the whisk is lifted when done. 

Scrape marshmallow mixture into prepared pan with a wet spatula (or you can coat spatula lightly w/ non-stick spray), work quickly as it gets harder to work with if it sits. And by harder I mean almost impossibly stringy and sticky. Smooth top with wet spatula. Let stand uncovered at room temperature until set, about 2-4 hours or over night. (note: if not toasting them you can then mix 1/2 cup corn starch and 1/2 cup powdered sugar, dust the top with the mix, turn them out, slice into desired size with a wet knife, and then toss the individuals with the powdered coating and store in an airtight container up to a week at room temperature)  

Put rack in highest position in oven. Turn broiler on high. 

Turn marshmallows out of parchment or foil into the baking pan. Place directly under the broiler for 30 seconds - 1 minute. Sometimes it catches fire a bit. This is fine, just be careful and blow it out. If you like yours less charred (I always liked to set my marshmallows on fire as a kid...) place the rack a little lower and watch the marshmallow until it's browned to your liking. I remove it, stir the char/toasted crust into the marshmallow, and then repeat for maximum toasty charred bits. Toast them to your liking. 

Place a generous dollop of charred marshmallow on to one graham cracker, top with another. Repeat with all the graham crackers and marshmallow fluff. 

Melt chocolate chips in a microwave safe bowl in 30 second intervals, stirring in between. Dunk one side of s'mores into chocolate and place on a wax paper lined baking sheet. They're messy. They're supposed to be! Either eat gooey and melty or place in fridge for a few minutes to let the chocolate harden. Leftovers can be individually wrapped once chilled and stored in the fridge and be either eaten straight from the fridge or, for a softer texture, allow to sit out for about ten minutes before eating.

pork confit & black eyed pea cassoulet with honeycrisp apple & sweet potato mash

 

   

Appalachia grips me, bedevils me even, in waking dreams. It’s heady, black, and sticky sweet, tar babies and sorghum. There never seems to be enough time for the mountains though there is time, to be sure. I drove for hours through North Georgia already twice this past week, through high noon and into long shadows, making my way home squinting against oncoming headlights on the two lane highways. We explored pumpkin patches and apple orchards, drank cider and spring water, ate Ellijay apple bread, fried cream cheese hand pies & cider donuts in Blue Ridge, and cashew brittle in Dawsonville where we bought a mammoth pumpkin to honor our most beloved holiday, All Hallow's Eve. I walked over the Ocoee in half-hearted rain, the leaves beginning to fall. But it hasn’t been enough, not enough at all. Between sleep and waking I erect creekside cabins in my mind.

Time is crass. It sterilizes and homogenizes. But here, in these wild pockets of the South that are still left intact, it's been less profane. I crave being in the heart of Appalachia so much it's actually uncomfortable, a physical tugging I can feel from my sternum to the pit of my stomach. The mountains, they prey on my mind. I want to know them intimately because I want to know myself.

I spent my adolescence gazing inward wondering who am I, but the who of I lies in this place, in the narrative that drawls from Sand Mountain, where my mother's family hails from, and on through the Appalachia of my youth in North Georgia and my other half's on Monteagle Mountain. We're both from 'round here. You might not know it to look at us, but we're both quite fundamentally southern. I like to think a trained eye could spot it in our eccentricity, in his perpetual tailored slacks and my wide brimmed hats. Idiosyncrasy is a proud tradition in the south, but originality is a silly cult after all. Even in our eccentricity we're all derivative, and it’s so grand. Like it or not, roots are part of who you are. You'll find them tangled deep in your ribcage if you look. I fell into the or not category for a very long time. But now, now I find the object of my obsession and desire in my back yard, in me. This is a great gift, to want what you have and to like who you are.

And this food is part of who I am. It’s a modest take on the blue plate special, essentially a meat 'n three. It’s pork and beans, honeycrisp apple & sweet potato mash sweetened with tangy Sequatchie Cove sorghum, bacon grease cornbread, and greens. A region nor its cuisine are static things. They live and breathe. So while this is essentially classic southern food, it's also representative of the new south, which is a fantastically brave place populated by people that know how to be both fierce archivists and radical reformists at the same time. The cornbread, while made with bacon grease, is also made with cultured coconut milk (which I use about half the time now, the other half going with my trusty Cruze Farm's buttermilk). You can find the recipe here, and Arrowhead Mills makes blue cornmeal but yellow works just fine. The sorghum sauteed apples are spiced with cardamom before going into the sweet potato mash enriched with creme fraiche. The pork, a beautiful forested pork shoulder I procured from Sequatchie Cove at the market, and black eyed peas are married in a take on the French peasant classic, cassoulet, and while it will never replace slow cooked pot likker collards (or turnip greens) this quick version of greens consists of baby lettuce barely wilted in bacon grease and seasoned to taste with the classic flavors of pot likker: a little sugar, apple cider vinegar, hot sauce, and smoky pork. As a cuisine evolves the living and dead share a table. All murder ballads and white lace, Appalachia is a haunted country and it is this that I love. Us southerner’s are comfortable dining with our ghosts. We have to be.

{a belated happy Halloween & feliz Día de los Muertos from our spectral dinner table to yours}

ps. Lindsey of Maker's Workshop asked me some questions. I answered them. Verbosely, of course. Check it out here for my (maybe self-indulgent?) ramblings on everything from photography advice to records to my inspirations & obsessions.

Pork Confit and Black Eyed Pea Cassoulet With Tomato Wine Sauce

serves 7-10, recipe easily doubles

In time for both the chill and the holidays, this dish and the accompanying side are hearty & warming, equally suited for weeknight leftovers (the cassoulet makes a ton & keeps superbly) as well as a feast day spread on Thanksgiving or Christmas. This cassoulet takes some time, but if you make the confit two weeks ahead, then make the cassoulet over the course of three days, making beans the first day (though remember they need to be soaked over night when timing things), the tomato sauce the second day, and then make the cassoulet on the third day. It isn't daunting at all and is largely hands off slow cooking. Also, remember this is country food, not an exact science. Feel free to substitute various meats and cuts for the ones used here. This is just how I do it. Feel free to make it your own. Some form of these foods has been a staple on the southern holiday table for many generations. Food has the extraordinary ability to allow us to travel, to partake in a sense of place, even if we cannot physically go there, so whether you too are "from 'round here" or not, you can bring a bit of the south to your table.

For Pork Confit

adapted from Epicurious

yields about 2 cups of confit, easily doubles

*best made at least 2 weeks ahead and allowed to cure in it's own fat, but it will still be good even if made a couple of days before (which I did)

Ingredients

1/2 Tbsp kosher salt 

3 crushed bay leaves

1 tsp herbs de provence

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

½ tsp chopped fresh thyme

½ tsp chopped fresh sage

¼ tsp ground coriander

pinch ground allspice

a few gratings of fresh nutmeg

2 lbs boneless pork shoulder, cut into 3" cubes, untrimmed

(note: I used a bone in and just cut the meat off)

1 onion, sliced

4 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed lightly

3 fresh thyme sprigs

about ½ a quart melted lard, enough to cover pork by 1” 

Cooking Directions

Mix first 9 ingredients in a bowl. Rub into pork, cover, and refrigerate over night and up to 24 hours. 

Heat oven to 225° F. 

Melt lard. Layer the onions, garlic, and thyme in an oven-proof pot (I used an enameled cast iron dutch oven). Layer the pork on top. Top with enough lard to cover the pork by at least an inch, cover the pan, and cook for twelve hours until the meat is very very tender. 

Strain pork, reserving the fat, and place in a container. Pour enough fat to cover the pork by one inch and chill. 

Allow to cure in it's fat for two weeks if possible before using. If not possible, go ahead and use it. It will still be lovely. Rewarm and strain pork before using. Reserve at least 1/4 cup of the fat from the confit for your cassoulet.

For Beans

Ingredients

1 lb dried black eyed peas

6 sprigs parsley

3 large sprigs thyme

2 bay leaves

6 whole peppercorns

5 coriander seeds

a few whole cloves (2-3)

1 medium carrot

1 stalk celery

½ a medium onion

½ head of garlic, intact

1 smoked ham hock

1 4 oz piece seasoned pork side meat (I used Goodnight Brother's ) (salt pork or uncured pork belly also work, adjust seasoning accordingly)

1 tsp kosher salt or to taste

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

healthy pinch cayenne

Cooking Directions

Pick over beans and rinse. Cover beans with cold water and let soak over night. 

Drain beans and place in a fresh pot. Make a bouquet garni by tying the parsley, thyme, bay leaves, peppercorns, coriander seeds, and cloves in cheese cloth with kitchen twine. Coarsely chop the carrot and celery and slice the onion thick. Add the bouquet and chopped vegetable and half head of garlic to the pot along with the ham hock and side meat. Cover with cold water. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer, stir in salt, pepper, and cayenne, cover, and cook until beans are just tender, about 1 hour. 

When beans are tender, drain, reserving the cooking liquid. Set aside the garlic, hock, and side meat. Discard the bouquet and vegetables.

Remove the cloves from their skin and puree with one ounce of the side meat with the skin removed. Reserve for tomato sauce. 

For Tomato Wine Sauce

adapted from Epicurious

1 28 oz can whole San Marzano tomatoes

3 Tbsp olive oil 

2 cups chopped onions, divided 

4 large fresh thyme sprigs

3 garlic cloves, peeled and quartered

1 bay leaf

1 oil packed anchovy fillet

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1 tsp sweet paprika 

1 cup white wine

1 cup reserved bean cooking liquid
reserved side meat garlic puree

Split and seed the tomatoes. Chop and reserve the juices from the can. Heat the 2 Tbsp oil and add the tomatoes, 1 cup of the onions, thyme, garlic, bay leaf, anchovy, salt, and paprika. Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook until reduced to 2 cups. 

Remove bay leaf and thyme stems (keeping the thyme leaves). Puree sauce by either passing through a food mill, in a blender (or w/ an immersion blender), or a food processor. Set aside.

Heat 1 Tbsp oil. Add the other cup of chopped onions and cook until just beginning to brown, about 5 minutes. Add wine and boil until reduced by half. Add cup of bean cooking liquid. Simmer 15 minutes. Add reserved tomato sauce and side meat garlic puree. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Can be made a day or two in advance.

For Cassoulet

Ingredients

the cooked black eyed peas

strained confit

1/4 reserved confit fat

reserved ham hock

one ounce reserved side meat, no skin

2 slices bacon

3 1/2 cups of tomato wine sauce

3 toulouse style sausages

1 cup course bread crumbs or panko

2 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley (optional)
remainder of reserved bean cooking liquid

Cooking Directions

Cook sausages until brown and cooked through, slice, and set aside. Fry bacon, chop, and set aside. Dice the side meat into 1/2 inch cubes and fry until crispy and golden. Pick the meat off the ham hock.

Heat oven to 350° F.

Taste the beans for seasoning. Add a little salt if necessary, keeping in mind that you will be adding salt via the meat, tomato sauce, and cooking liquid as well. In a heavy bottomed cast iron pot, layer some of the beans. Top with some of the slices of sausage, some confit, ham hock meat, bacon, and side meat cracklins. Ladle some of the tomato sauce over it. Repeat this until you have used all of your beans, meat, and sauce ending on a layer of beans. Pour enough of the bean cooking liquid over the cassoulet to just cover the beans. Reserve any left over cooking liquid for remoistening cassoulet as needed during the cooking process and for leftovers.

Mix bread crumbs and parsley. Set aside.

Bake cassoulet for one hour, uncovered. Remove cassoulet from oven and gently stir in any skin that has formed. Top with 1/2 cup of the parsley bread crumbs and drizzle with 1/8 cup of the reserved confit fat. Reduce heat to 250°F and bake for another hour. Break crust, gently stirring in, moistening with about 1/4 cup of cooking liquid if necessary. You ultimately want the cassoulet to be creamy, not soupy or dry. Top with the other half of bread crumbs and fat. Turn the oven back up to 350° F and bake until creamy, the crust is golden brown, and it's very hot.

Honeycrisp Apple & Sweet Potato Mash

serves 8-10

Ingredients

4 sweet potatoes (I like to use white sweet potatoes when I can find them)
4 Honeycrisp apples (or other tart, firm apples like Granny Smith), peeled, cored, and diced
4 Tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp cinnamon
pinch cayenne
1/4 cup sorghum
1 tsp orange blossom water (optional)
1/2 cup creme fraiche (more to taste if you're feeling decadent!)
about 1/4-1/2 cup whole milk, as needed
kosher salt to taste
olive oil

Cooking Directions

Heat oven to 450° F.

Rub sweet potatoes with olive oil and roast on a sheet pan lined with foil for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until very soft all the way through.

Meanwhile melt the butter in a frying pan. Add the apples along with a pinch of kosher salt. Add the cardamom, cinnamon, and cayenne and sauté until soft. When apples are softened add sorghum and stir to fully incorporate. Add orange blossom water and continue to sauté until very soft and browning. (note: these apples would be amazing in an array of baked goods and the puree itself is like the best apple sauce ever. I can think of about 101 uses for them... they're so good!)

Puree apple mixture until smooth and set aside.

Scoop the flesh out of the roasted sweet potatoes and pass through a potato ricer or food mill and into a pot. If you don't own a potato ricer you can use a potato masher or even a fork, it just won't be as smooth.

Stir the apple puree into the mashed sweet potatoes. Stire in the creme fraiche. Add milk as needed to reach your desired consistency. Season to taste with salt. I often pass this mixture through the ricer again to ensure a smooth consistency.

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