“Thank you.” “Your mother always had a sweet tooth you know?” “Look, the pie!” “You’re going to die for some chickens?” “Someone is.” Hey, what’s up guys, and welcome back to Binging with Babish, where this week, we’re taking on the often nefarious foods from Game of Thrones (while trying to make as few double entendres as possible). We’re going to start with some Purple Wedding Pigeon Pie, which involves a lot of butchering, something made easier by a moist paper towel placed underneath your cutting board. This immobilizes the board, and makes it a whole lot easier to carve up these squabs, or domestic pigeons. The thighs on these birds are pretty much useless, so we’re going to clean breasts off of the carcasses, saving them for some really funky stock. On to some wild boar. All this butchering is making me thirsty, and I can’t think of a more appropriate beer than one actually like, licensed by HBO. (I mean come on here, how accurate can I get?) Trim the silver skin off the boar, and cut it into similarly sized chunks. Last but not least, a whole rabbit. In this case, deboned. This is going to be the most mild flavor of all the meats, we don’t want to overwhelm the pie with gaminess. And now on to the seasonings. We’re going to season each of these meats differently so we get different flavors in each layer of the pie. With the rabbit I’m going to use sautéed mushrooms, crushed garlic, fresh rosemary, fresh thyme, some kosher salt, and freshly ground pepper. Mix that up good to evenly distribute the spices and next up we’re going to do the wild boar. This layer we’re going to do with sautéed onions, garlic, and sage, along with, of course, salt and freshly ground pepper. And of course this is a pigeon pie, So we’re going to do the pigeon two different ways. The first way with chopped cherries, sautéed onions, thyme, rosemary, salt, and pepper. This is going to be the bottom layer of the pie, because I want to keep the cherry flavors isolated. For the remaining half the pigeon, we’ll use sautéed apples, sautéed onions, a ton of sage, and a hint of rosemary. Next up the hot water crust. Hot water crust starts with 16 ounces of all-purpose flour three and a half ounces of bread flour, and a pinch of salt. Whisk together and bring 6 ounces of lard and 7 ounces of water to a boil and add to the flour mixture. Mix together with a wooden spoon, for a bit of medieval flair, until a crumbly dough forms and then, once it’s cool enough to touch, knead until a smooth, tacky dough forms. Very liberally grease up a springform mold with lard and generously coat with flour. The last you want the world is this thing to stick to the mold. Roll out about two-thirds of your dough to maybe a 22 inch circle that we’re then going to drape over top of the mold using the old… “dough on the rolling… pin”… trick (whatev- whatever this is called). Press and patch it into every corner until you’re sure you have a watertight seal and begin filling with first the cherry pigeon layer, followed by a sort of bacon divider, then the wild boar layer, and another bacon divider. This is a recipe you definitely don’t need to follow to the letter. You can have fun with the different fruits and flavors that you put in each one of these layers. I’m going apple-pigeon third and mushroom rabbit last. Roll out a little dough lid for your pie and crimp it shut as you would a… pie. Then optionally, you can use your remaining dough to cut out a few little decorations that we’re going to put around the very necessary steam hole in the center of our pie lid. If you don’t put the steam hole in there, this thing’s going to explode. Not literally, but it’s going to crack open. You don’t want that. Put it in a 400°F oven after brushing all over with a beaten egg for about 30 minutes before turning the temperature down to 320°F and cooking for an additional hour and a half, or until the internal temperature registers 165°F. Hack off any edges of the pie crust that would prevent it from getting out of the mold and after chilling overnight, or at least letting cool for a couple hours, remove it from the mold and slice in half so you can get the cross-section to end all cross-sections. Hack yourself off a kingly portion and I recommend serving with a little bit of grain mustard and some good red wine laced with just a little bit of strychnine if you’re looking to make a power move to your next dinner party. Now, overall, I really enjoyed each of these meats. The wild boar was a lot less gamey that I thought it was going to be and the cherries and apples worked very well with the pigeon. The rabbit wasn’t bringing much to the party but it was nice to take a break from these strong flavors every once in a while. [coughing from poison] I’m fine. It’s nothing. Now on the opposite end of the financial spectrum of Westeros, we’re going to go with Dothraki blood pie. This starts with a pound of finely diced pork fat that we’re going to saute until translucent. Then we’re going to add a whole diced Spanish onion and saute for an additional 10 minutes or until the onions are very soft. We’re then going to set those aside to cool completely. Now we’re obviously not going to use real blood in blood pie, so what are we going to use? Raspberries or red food coloring? I’m just kidding. We’re using pig’s blood. Start by adding 1/2 a cup of rolled oats to the sauteed onions and fat along with a 1/2 teaspoon each of Cayenne pepper, paprika, smoked paprika, a bit of salt and pepper, and freshly grated nutmeg, and one cup of heavy cream. I know they probably don’t have much heavy cream in Essos, but, you know, give me a break. Straining two cups of blood through a fine-mesh sieve and it’s showtime. Hey guys can we also call this Klingon blood pie? So it’d kill two birds with one stone here? Because I really don’t want to try (gagh).
[Klingon blood pie is called (ro’qegh ‘Iwchab), get it right Andrew!] Stir the blood mixture together until homogeneous and it’s time to prepare a standard pie crust. If you want to see my pie crust recipe check out my pie crust video: it’s apple pie. We’re pounding and rolling that out to about an 18 inch round and then lifting it up with our trusty… …trick. Draping it over a standard 10 inch pie plate and trimming to size. We’re foregoing any frilly decorations, because that’s what the Dothraki would do, or maybe just because I’m really tired from the last pie. But we are going to blind bake it for about 10 minutes at 350 degrees before adding… Well, you can just tell yourself it’s some delicious raspberry filling. But then going to bake this for about 25 minutes at 350 degrees, or until it is just beginning to set, so we can add some meager decorations that might make this a little bit more palpable. We’re going to start with goat cheese (5 big ol’ dollops) and some halved figs. We’re then going to return this to the oven for 10 minutes or until the goat cheese and figs have softened. I know you can’t wait to dig into this thing, but let it cool for 1 hour before cutting a slice and coming to the realization that this is essentially just black pudding in pie form, so it’s actually not that gross and could be pretty tasty. Garnish with some black sea salt (because it looks badass), And it’s time to dig in. The verdict? It’s actually pretty good. It could have been spiced a bit more liberally, so the recipe on the website will reflect that, but it didn’t taste like blood at all; it tasted like meat. That being said, I wanted to end the day on a slightly more delicate note, so it’s time to go lemon cakes. Starting with eight and a half ounces of flour, a teaspoon each of baking soda and baking powder, and a teaspoon of salt. Whisk together and set aside while we cream together a cup of sugar and a half cup of butter. This is about as standard as a cake recipe gets. Starting off by creaming together the sugar and fat before adding eggs one at a time, creaming in between each egg t(hree eggs in total). The base here is a white sponge cake but we’re going to add the zest and juice of two lemons. Throw another in there if you want it to be extra lemon-y. Add the dry ingredients and mix slowly until well combined before adding a cup of buttermilk. We’re then going to beat that together on medium-high speed for about three minutes or until it’s light and fluffy before liberally buttering, flouring, and parchment-ing a 9×13 inch casserole. Add the cake batter, spread evenly, and place in a 350°F oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a tester emerges clean. In the meantime, we’re to make some candied lemon slices. Start by combining a cup of sugar and a half cup of water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a simmer before adding a dozen or so lemon slices making sure you’ve gotten all the seeds out. Cook for about 10 to 15 minutes or until they’re very soft and cool on a parchment lined baking sheet. Next up, a couple of freshly squeezed lemon juice, a cup of sugar, and three large eggs that are going to get whisked constantly over medium-low heat. Adding a full stick of butter after about the first two minutes. We’re then going to continue to whisk it constantly over medium-low heat or until lemon curd forms. This stuff is delicious. Keep it in your fridge and make sure the seatbelts on your taste buds are securely fastened. Let this cool off in the fridge for an hour while we also simultaneously cool off our cake. We’re going to run a small knife around the edge before and inverting it onto a wire rack. Remove the parchment paper, take some nibbles off the left-hand side of the cake, and use a small biscuit cutter to cut adorable little cakes that you can just picture at a High Garden tea party. Top with a generous spoonful of our lemon curd and garnish with a candied lemon slice, and it’s time to try a bite now. These are super delicious, super simple little cakes. They’re the perfect thing to munch on whilst weaving a twisted web of sex, murder, lies, power, and occasionally surprising you by killing off a main character. [Show in background]: ‘You know nothing Jon Snow.’ ANDREW [in thick British accent]: You know nothing Jon Snow. ‘She’s right you don’t.’ ANDREW [still heavy accent]: She’s right. [In American surfer accent]: She’s right, man. You totally don’t. You don’t know anything, Jon. Jon, you don’t know anything. You don’t know.. you… You know, nothing, man! Jon! [Laughing] You don’t know jack, man.