How do you conceptualize your Thanksgiving practice? Do you loll in the warm gravy-filled bathtub of tradition, splashing between the green bean casserole and the marshmallow-topped yams? Do you light out for the territories with Thai-spiced vegan pumpkin soup? Do you skip the whole thing, go out for dim sum, then roast a turkey on Friday just for the joy of standing in front of the fridge, making sandwiches, picking at leftovers or frying up hash? Why Brussels sprouts? And how?

At times like these, a cookbook, an app, the Food Network, even Mark Bittman is not enough. For inspiration, for solace, for getting you through your kitchen's long dark night of the soul, only poetry will do. (Philosophy, the big gun typically aimed at life's meatier questions, is distressingly silent on crucial issues like do I brine or do I fry?) For all the koan-like beauty of his work, poet Wallace Stevens never made the most obvious suggestion to readers of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, one known to every kid since their days of playground double-Dutch: get yourself eleven more birds, mister, and you got yourself a pie.

Not that all poets should bake pies, but, as Grace Paley has pointed out, it's a valid occasional alternative, even for a poet. As Paley writes,

I was going to write a poem
I made a pie instead
...
everybody will like this pie
it will have apples and cranberries
dried apricots in it many friends
will say why in the world did you
make only one

this doesn't happen with poems

So, pace Mr. Stevens, we offer 13 Ways of Looking at a Brussels Sprout, our poem of recipes for you and your pre-holiday kitchen.

I
Among twenty winter squashes
The only moving thing
Was the cleaver heading towards your fingers.

Aida Mollencamp, CHOW, How to Cut Hard Squash

II
I was of three minds
Like a refrigerator
In which there are three slaws.

Mark Bittman, New York Times, Slaws Eight Ways

III
The pureed pumpkin whirled in the coconut milk.
It was a small part of the dairy-free, gluten-free pantomime.

Pim Techamuanvivit, Chez Pim, Pumpkin Panna Cotta

IV
A man and a woman
Are hungry.
A man and a woman and a Brussels sprout salad
Are happy.

Heidi Swanson, 101 Cookbooks, Shredded Brussels Sprouts & Apples

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of chestnuts
Or the beauty of butter.
The pie coming out of the oven,
Or pie the morning after.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Chestnut Soup for the Holidays
Bay Area Bites, KQED, Sweet Potato Pie

VI
Pies filled the long window
With buttery shards.
The shadow of you on your bicycle
Crossed it, to and fro, wishing you had pre-ordered your Thanksgiving dessert.
The mood
Traced on the glass
Sugared with longing.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Food Secrets of Mission Pie’s Karen Heisler and Krystin Rubin
Bay Area Bites, KQED, A Day with 3 Babes’ Bakeshop

VII
O vegan teens of Haight Street,
Why do you imagine golden tofurkys?
Do you not see how the bacon
Whispers to the Brussels sprouts
Of the Whole Foods around you?

Chef Zac Palaccio, New York Times, Fatty ‘Cue Brussels Sprouts
Chef Erik Cosselmon, 7x7, Kokkari's Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Lemon

VIII
I know Burning Man
And its lurid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That fried onions in a can are involved
In what I know.

Isa Chandra Moskowitz, Post Punk Kitchen, Vegan Green Bean-Mushroom Casserole
Tori Richie, Tuesday Recipe, Green Beans with Brown Butter and Lemon

IX
When the Brussels sprout rolled under the table,
It came out fuzzied in cat hair
The five-second rule, debatable.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Food Safety on Thanksgiving

X
At the sight of Brussels sprout leaves
Wilting in a skillet with red grapes and bacon
Even the ennui’d of brassicas
Would cry out sharply.

Chef Rene Ortiz, SF Chronicle, La Condesa's Coles de Brussels

XI
He rode over to the coast
In a Zipcar Mini.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The false chanterelles
For chanterelles.

Iso Rabins, Forage SF, Wild Mushroom Box

XII
The lard is melting
the pigs must be flying.

Jessica Prentice, Edible East Bay, Cream of Celery Root Soup with Leeks and Lard
Sara Seinberg, Seinberg Holistic Health Coaching, Spicy Cauliflower and Japanese Sweet Potato Soup

XIII
It was dinnertime all afternoon.
The dishwasher was running.
And it was going to run.

(with thanks to Amy Rosenbaum Clark)

It's hard to be a pie on Thanksgiving. It's the quandary of the big feast: everyone wants to see pie on the table, it seems, but after all that turkey, stuffing, gravy-drenched mashed potatoes and marshmallow-topped yams, few have the available real estate inside to truly do justice to a slice (or more) of pie. All that time you spent rushing around sourcing precious leaf lard from the appropriately happy, local, and pasture-raised pigs, all that careful crimping and filling, hovering and squatting in front of the oven window, praying that the crust edges wouldn't overbrown, finally sweeping up the big floury mess, and for what? Nothing but the sight of all your tipsy, satiated friends and family asking for "just a teeny slice" and then pushing it around on their plate while they drink more wine and attack the whipped cream instead.

Pie, of course, is the best day-after-Thanksgiving breakfast ever. But you can only count on leftover pie if you’re hosting the dinner in your own house. Bring the pies to someone else’s dinner, and you must hope and pray to be sent home with what remains. After all, a pie must be brought over intact; a pie minus one piece is a used pie. Sadly not every host/ess has the grace to make up little care packages of leftovers. What this means, besides no turkey sandwiches for lunch, is that you could have rolled and latticed all day long, seen lots of uneaten pie on the counter, and still ended up with no pie to go with your coffee the next morning. This has happened to me more times than I would care to remember.

You can get around both these scenarios in one easy step: just turn your pies into bars. This works best with solid, open-faced pies—pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan, or the chilled cranberry-tangerine, below. Apple or other sliced-fruit pies won’t work, but someone else will make these, anyway. Instead, imagine a lemon square refashioned for autumn, with crunchy crust on the bottom and creamy-firm filling on top. Baked and then chilled until well set, these can be cut like brownies into narrow rectangles or small squares, a two- or three-bite morsel, perfect for both children and overstuffed adults alike.

How to do it? Use a cookie-like crust recipe, one with egg yolk and vanilla in the dough instead of just water, what's usually called a sweet tart dough. This dough, sturdier and sweeter than a typical plain pie dough, can be easily rolled out and/or pressed to fit into the bottom of an 8"x8" square pan. Prick lightly all over with a fork and bake until just blond and set. Let cool, then pour on filling and bake as usual, keeping in mind that it will probably take a little less time to bake than a regular pie, since the filling won't be as deep. Cool, chill, and cut.

Cranberry Tangerine Bars
This cranberry-tangerine dessert is a longtime family favorite. It's particularly great for any holiday get-together, as the nut crust holds up well in the fridge and doesn't get tough or soggy. You can definitely make it the day before; because of the gelatin, however, you'll need to keep it refrigerated until dinner time. A nice blob of fresh whipped cream helps balance the tart fruitiness of the filling.

Yield: 16 squares
Prep Time: 45 minutes
Cook Time: 20-25 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour, 5-10 minutes, plus several hours' chilling time

Ingredients:
1 cup finely chopped, lightly toasted walnuts
3 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (4 oz) butter, softened
1 egg yolk
1/2 tsp vanilla
1-2 tbsp water (optional)

Filling:
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp water
1 envelope (1 TB) unflavored powdered gelatin (such as Knox)
3 cups fresh or frozen whole cranberries
1 1/4 cups sugar
Rind and juice of 1 tangerine (you may not need all the rind; add half first, then more if you want a stronger orange flavor)
1 tbsp good orange liqueur, such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau (optional)
Whipped cream for serving

1. To make crust: Mix walnuts, sugar and flour together in a large bowl. If you have a stand-up mixer (like a KitchenAid), use the paddle attachment to beat in the butter. Otherwise, mix and mash in with a hand-held mixer, a pastry blender or your fingertips. Stir in egg yolk and vanilla to form a crumbly dough, adding water as necessary to make the dough stick together. Chill dough for 1 hour.

2. Preheat oven to 350F. Press dough into an 8x8 square pan, preferably glass. Bake until light golden and firm, about 20-25 minutes. Let cool before filling.

3. To make filling: Sprinkle gelatin over 1/4 cup water and let sit until gelatin swells and softens into a pasty, translucent gel. In a saucepan, combine cranberries, sugar, rind and juice, and remaining two tablespoons of water. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, for 10-15 minutes, until berries have popped and mixture is thick.

4. Remove pan from heat, cool slightly, then stir in gelatin and liqueur, if using. Let cool to room temperature. Taste for sweetness, adding more sugar or liqueur as desired, keeping in mind that a bittersweet tartness is this dessert's main charm, then spread over crust.

5. Chill until firm, at least several hours or overnight. Cut into bars and serve with fresh whipped cream.

Still need pie therapy? Local pastry chef and caterer Meloni Courtway, who taught last year's wonderful Orchard to Oven workshop, is offering a hands-on apple-pie workshop at the Marin Country Mart on Saturday, November 19. All participants go home with a hand-made pie that can be frozen and baked fresh for Thanksgiving.

Gillian Shaw of Black Jet Baking Co. (left), Jaynelle St. Jean of Pietisserie (right)

The Bay Area has a lot going for it. Our summer lasts longer than most, fresh produce and farmers markets abound, and around every corner there’s something interesting going on—from museums to music festivals to a new hike or a scenic drive. The local food community is fiercely supportive, and small businesses and food trucks are popping up in neighborhoods all around San Francisco and the East Bay. Jaynelle St. Jean, owner of Oakland’s sweetest pie window Pietisserie, and Gillian Shaw of Black Jet Bakery are among those businesses.

St. Jean started baking in high school, but never thought she’d actually have a business featuring pie. And she didn’t necessarily set out to do so, either. One day, she decided to give pie away out of the window of her mom’s house in San Francisco: “I dressed up the window with striped curtains and I served pie by the slice to anyone walking by on a glass plate—the point was that I’d get to meet them and they’d stay there. People loved it. I loved it.”

After moving around to a number of commercial kitchens and locations to sell her pies (St. Jean even does “Random Acts of Sweetness,” showing up unexpectedly at parks and street corners to give away slices), she has slowly become known as “the pie lady” and is constantly thinking about how to grow the little pie window from its Friday home in Old Oakland’s Swan Market to a bigger, more permanent home.

“I think that what I found is that pie does for other people exactly what it does for me. It’s about what it represents– about sustenance,” St. Jean says. “I used to be a legal assistant. I used to do a lot of thing, actually. But now, at the end of the day I make pie. It makes people happy. I get psyched about how I can impact people’s day and mood.”

Making Pies at Pietisserie

Gillian Shaw of San Francisco’s Black Jet Baking Co. shares a similar experience in starting small, moving around, and hustling to gain customers and brand recognition. Shaw moved to San Francisco from the East Coast to attend pastry school. After graduating, she started baking at Moose’s in North Beach and then moved on to The Liberty Café where she really learned how to make pie. There Shaw also met Max Newman, who now works closely with her at Black Jet, and made an important realization: “I’m a baker, not a pastry chef. I like rustic.”

Shaw rented out a commercial kitchen and began pumping out nostalgic sweets like pop-tarts and devil dogs to anyone who would try them.

“When I first started Black Jet, I was working two jobs and the insanity of that was too much--it was time to quit,” Shaw said. There was a lot of juggling and not a lot of sleep. “When your dream is coming true, it’s kind of scary. It doesn’t feel like a Disney movie. You ask yourself, what if I mess this up? And those days of driving around with Black Jet samples and putting yourself out there and really selling it...that was really challenging.”

Today all of the sampling and small-scale deliveries have paid off and Shaw has a much-coveted booth at San Francisco’s Ferry Building Marketplace, which attracts six million visitors each year. You’d think she’d start settling in. She’s not.

While she feel very much at home in the spot in The Ferry Building, Black Jet Bakery has outgrown their kitchen space and are working to find a brick-and-mortar that would house a kitchen and a storefront, hopefully, in a year’s time. “We definitely want a home,” Shaw said. “As much as the commercial kitchen is collaborative and great in that way, we want a neighborhood spot. The Liberty Café gave us a taste of what that means. Liberty was an open baking space and I loved getting to see all of the customers. We really want that.”

Pietisserie Lattice Work

St. Jean is also working towards brick-and-mortar. “I think that Pietisserie offers great pie but also offers an experience, and for that to be fully articulated, that has to happen in a place,” she said. “I’m concerned with neighborhoods and being a good neighbor and living a certain pace.”

Neighborhoods are also important to Shaw. She loves the loyal food community in San Francisco, and having the opportunity to bounce ideas off of friends like Sara Spearin of Dynamo Donuts and Eileen Hassi of Ritual Coffee. It’s work, sure. But at the end of the day, it’s not just about you anymore. When you’re in the food business and you’re producing a product that sustains and nourishes others, it’s bigger than that. It’s about your friends, the people on your block, the visitors you meet who write letters telling you how much they love your pie; it’s about your city; it’s about the life you choose to create for yourself in the community you’ve come to love. A community that loves you back and will constantly welcome you home.

Find Jaynelle at Swann’s Market every Friday from her 7-foot tall, 5-foot wide window in addition to other locations around the Bay Area. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook for updates on specials and events.
Photos of Pietisserie courtesy of Robin Jolin.

Find Gillian Shaw at her Black Jet Baking Co. booth in the San Francisco Ferry Building, and enjoy her treats at the following Bay Area spots. Follow her on Twitter and Facebook for updates on specials and events.
Photos of Gillian Shaw courtesy of Paige Green.

The first thing that struck me about The Beekman 1802 Heirloom Cookbook, written by Brent Ridge and Josh Kilmer-Purcell with Sandy Gluck, is the very first page. There's a smartly designed book-plate that reads:

First Generation to Own This Book: ____________

I think the very first page of the book says a great deal about the mission and ethos behind the project, the recipes, and the vision. Brent and Josh have a 200-year old farm outside of tiny Sharon Springs, New York where they produce goat's milk soap, cheeses, and other artisanal products along with hosting dinners and events. After deciding they firmly believed in capturing the work that was happening on the farm, preserving the food traditions they were introducing, and celebrating the small community surrounding them, a cookbook seemed like the next logical step.

Now the Beekman boys will be the first to ask the question, "does the world really need another cookbook?" This fall, especially, seems to be a banner season for new releases including The Family Meal, Bi-Rite's Eat Good Food, Essential Pepin, Ruhlman's Twenty and The Food 52 Cookbook among many others. So what sets this one apart? Sure, it's organized by seasons and focuses on feel-good recipes with a sense of history. But a lot of cookbooks do this. I think the true thing that sets the Beekman Boys' book apart is the definitive aesthetic and design (highly visual, quirky, a little bit irreverent), the approachable and inspired recipes appropriate for novice and more experienced cooks alike, and their push for generational cooking. I like this last part a lot. It's why I'm really sold on this book.

The photography by Paulette Tavormina captures the almost-down-home nature of the recipes beautifully. Most dishes are basic comfort food with a twist, and the photos really convey a warm, lived-in quality that make you want to pull up a chair and settle right into an evening meal at the farm. As far as the recipes are concerned, there are some that stand out right away for me. I've bookmarked Pea Pod Risotto, Meatloaf Burgers, Buttery Peach Cake, and Rosemary Spiced Nuts. The recipes range from simple salads and soups to more substantial entrees, side dishes and desserts. In addition, they do profiles of ingredients (raspberries, green beans, onions) and little "how-to" (yogurt cheese) sections that make the reader feel even closer to farm life. The headnotes for each recipe are approachable and become quite formulaic: the Beekman boys spell out why they're drawn to the recipe and then give a tip on preparation or shopping. For example, with the Broccoli Cheddar Soup recipe, they discuss using the broccoli stalks and florets and why each is useful.

But we really can't discuss the recipes without exploring the question: what exactly is a "heritage recipe"? In their introduction, Brent and Josh note that "heirlooms [are] recipes that we will make every year, recipes that we pass along to friends and family on scraps of paper. They are now as much a part of the story and life of Beekman 1802 Farms as are the house, the barn and the land." Later they go on to note that "heirlooms" of any kind are often irreplaceable and are, therefore, cherished. So they seem to have a two-fold mission: first, to publish recipes that have become important to them in living and creating a meaningful life on the farm and second, to encourage others to make these recipes a part of their own family traditions. There is a little "Notes" box next to each recipe to encourage readers to jot down what they liked, didn't like, or would change. They also supply sturdy note cards to jot down adaptations you might make with a certain recipe. Then, after doing so, Brent and Josh encourage readers to go to Beekman1802 to chronicle the changes. This way, each recipe will grow, change, and live on. For generations? Who knows. Time will tell, I suppose.

Is the book romanticizing their "newly bucolic [country] lives?" Sure. Absolutely. Regardless, the emphasis on family and the importance of traditions is especially relevant this time of year, especially as we tip-toe into fall and start to peek towards Thanksgiving. And that is why I so wanted to try out their Sweet Potato Pie recipe that appears towards the back of the book.

The Beekman Boys have given Bay Area Bites permission to reprint the recipe and I can tell you that it's already been decided that Sweet Potato is taking down Pumpkin this Thanksgiving at our house. This recipe is special largely because of its simplicity, attention to detail (uses two distinct kinds of sweet potato) and the addition of brown butter at the end. It's, in all honesty, a pie I was talking about for a good three days afterwards. I think you will, too. While the recipe doesn't delineate the timing, I've done so here below. I've also split the paragraphs up into numbered steps. Last, when making your pie dough, if lard isn't your thing, Martha Stewart's pate brisee is a perfectly lovely and reliable pie dough so go that route instead.

Sweet Potato Pie
To get a sweet potato pie that isn't overly sweet, we use two kinds of sweet potatoes: Japanese sweet potatoes, which are a little drier in texture and mildly sweet, and deep-orange garnet potatoes, which are moist and quite sweet. If the pie develops a crack in the center as it cooks, which many do, simply top with sweetened whipped cream, sour cream, or yogurt.

Prep Time: 25 minutes (to make dough)
Cook Time: 1 hour
Total Time: 1 hour, 25 minutes

Ingredients:
Basic Pie Dough *
1 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, grated
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup sour cream
3 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups pureed cooked sweet potatoes (from about 1 1/2 pounds)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter

Instructions:
1. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough to a 12-inch round. Roll the dough around the rolling pin, and then fit it into a 9-inch deep-dish plate without stretching it.
2. Press the dough into the bottom and sides of the pan. With a pair of scissors or a paring knife, trim the edges of the dough to form a 1-inch overhand. Fold the overhand over to form a high edge, and with your fingers, crimp the dough all around. Refrigerate.
3. Preheat the oven to 350 F.
4. In a large bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt until well combined. Whisk in the milk, sour cream, whole eggs, egg yolk, and vanilla. Whisk in the mashed sweet potatoes.
5. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Cook until the butter foams; them continue cooking until the foam subsides and the butter turns a rich brown.
6. Immediately pour the browned butter into the sweet potato mixture and whisk until incorporated.
7. Place the pie plate on a rimmed baking sheet and pour the mixture into it. Bake for 1 hour, or until the pie is set with a slightly wobbly center.
8. Cool on a rack. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

*Basic Pie Dough
Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
4 tablespoons cold lard, cut into bits
3-4 tablespoons ice water

Instructions: (note that there are two methods described below)
1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. With a pastry blender or two knives used scissors fashion, cut in the butter and the lard until pea-size lumps remain.
2. Gradually add the ice water until the dough begins to come together but doesn't clean the sides of the bowl. Add just enough of the ice water so the mixture holds together when pinched between two fingers.

1. Alternatively, in a food processor, pulse together the flour, sugar, and salt.
2. Add the butter and lard and pulse 10 times or until large pea-size lumps are formed. With the motor running, gradually add the ice water until the dough begins to come together but doesn't clean the sides of the bowl.
3. Add just enough of the ice water so the mixture holds together when pinched between two fingers.
4. Shape into a disk, wrap in wax paper and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.

Buy the book on Amazon, $13

When you spend time at the Three Babes kitchen in South San Francisco, you'll inevitably see a lot of pie. An employee is shaping dough, the mixers are whirring, a friend is making streusel, family members are slicing fruit, rap is playing from the ipod, and there's a certain controlled chaos that makes it feel like one big ol' pie party rather than an obligatory baking production. I went to interview the Three Babes to find out how the business started, how they got such a kick-start so early on, where they find inspiration, and what keeps them going as new business owners in an expensive and competitive city. What I found out: they're driven by late nights, a strong friendship and admiration for each other, close and supportive families, and heart. Lots of heart.

Ingredient Prep at the Three Babes Kitchen

Anna Derivi-Castellanos, Lenore Estrada and Katrina Svoboda are the gals behind the booming pie business that specializes in a pie subscription service, deliveries, and fantastic pop-up cafe on Saturdays and Sunday as Stable Cafe. You'll also find them soon at the Civic Center Farmers' Market on Wednesdays and Sundays. They're a busy bunch. Most strikingly, they're a busy bunch that just started the business in March of this year. March! They're gaining new pie customers and fans each day, and are making anywhere from 65-85 pies each week. That's a lot of pie for a company that's barely six months old.

When I visited the kitchen on a Thursday evening in August, the babes were in full pie-baking mode. Lenore's family was having a big reunion that weekend, so her brother was in the kitchen helping along with a few friends. Lenore was whipping up a chocolate custard, stopping frequently to ask for taste-testers: "Okay, what does this need? What does this need?" She and Anna debated about whether to add honey or a little more sugar. This was all happening as Anna was preparing a simple staff meal of sausages on wheat rolls with sauerkraut. She cut them in half and laid them out for everyone, and in unspoken agreement, the kitchen stopped and everyone shared a bite to eat. Rolling pins down, knives down, mixers stopped. Anna said at first she was a little nervous about how to feed the kitchen, but now it's almost natural. She had to buy sausages for the week's savory pie as it was, so she just folded it in to the kitchen meal. It was important. They work together, they eat together, they tell stories and share jokes together.

Lenore, Anna, and Lenore and husband Cesar

This teamwork and reliance on one another is really how the business began in the first place. Anna and Lenore have been friends since grade school in Stockton, CA, and Katrina and Lenore attended college together and went on to work at the same company. After a few years of struggling to feel at home in a career and feel truly happy with what she was doing, Lenore started thinking about pie. Anna had finished pastry school and had helped open a restaurant and Katrina had always been an avid baker and was blogging about food on the side. It seemed like good timing. The rest is history. Lenore decided to move from Boston to the Bay Area and begin working with the gals full-stride to help make the pie business a reality. Now, they just needed a name.

The girls decided on the name "Three Babes Bakeshop" over the phone. It had been quite a long process that involved three families, numerous friends, and one growing Google Doc. And a lot of head scratching. Finally, one day we just laid it all out and started fresh: "What do we all have in common?" we asked ourselves. To get the ideas rolling, the conversation started out with: "Well, we're three babes who..." That was it. A name had been cemented. If fit perfectly.

The three women knew that they could make some mean pie, but they obviously needed somewhere to sell it. They pounded the pavement looking for a spot with good foot traffic that would allow them to sell their wares in some mutually beneficial arrangement. When they approached Stable Cafe, the timing was just right: they made arrangements to essentially lease out the shipping container in the garden/courtyard each weekend. Customers come and buy a slice of pie from The Babes, a cup of coffee at Stable, and everyone is happy.

Lenore with the Sunday menu

When I asked the gals why they chose pie, they mentioned how they grew up in Stockton constantly surrounded by fresh, seasonal fruit. "We always knew we wanted to do something homey--something all-American. We thought for awhile about doing biscuits, but Anna's always been known for her pies and growing up we always had birthday pie instead of cake," Lenore said. Pie was just the obvious choice. Anna's great-grandfather was a pastry chef and Anna and her mom frequently bake pies together. Lenore's mom bakes as well, and Lenore began playing around in the kitchen when she was five.

So do they wish they had started with something easier and more cost effective like cupcakes? "No way," Lenore answers. Looking around the kitchen at all of the beautiful figs that Lenore's dad had just picked that morning and her brother and husband were so carefully chopping -- you could see why. With their pies, they're paying homage to the seasons, to their families and where they came from, and to the one dessert that truly nourishes in a way that others just can't. What really struck me was the variety of pies and the fact that, with a few exceptions, they're all new flavors each week. This takes a great deal of planning, creativity, and innovation. When you're in the midst of building a business from the ground up, this isn't easy.

So the rest is pie making history, then? Not really. Anna and Katrina both work full-time jobs, so Lenore and her younger sister do a lot of the daily errands, farmers' market runs and deliveries throughout the week. Anna tests and plans out the week's recipes in her (not so) free time and puts in long days Thursdays and Fridays transitioning from her day job into Babe baker at night. I asked Lenore and Anna how they keep each other going and if they ever look around and ask themselves, "what are we doing?" Do they ever have doubts?

In my own business, Marge, I've definitely had days, particularly after a difficult, rainy week without earning a profit, when I wonder why I'm not working a traditional job with great health benefits and reliable pay. Anna says she thinks about this issue frequently and there are moments when she suffers from a significant lack of sleep and wonders, "Is this what I really want?" But the answer always comes up with a resounding "Yes." "The cool thing is, it's up to you. I wouldn't have it any other way," she says. Anna's doing what she loves, working for herself, and getting to spend more time with Lenore in the kitchen. The two women haven't had the opportunity to really spend time together as adults in this way and their friendship just continues to grow and strengthen as they rely on each other not just as childhood friends but as adults, confidants, and business partners. Lenore agrees, noting "The finances scare me, sure. But I actually don't have those 'what am I doing' moments. Even when we were staying up all night; I'm still so excited!"

Anna serving up pie at Stable Cafe

So what's up next? The gals are interested in having a storefront at some point and know that they can't live at Stable forever. They're constantly inspired by local bakers like Gillian from Black Jet Baking Company who just secured a sweet kiosk in The Ferry Building. They find inspiration for pies from old Southern cookbooks and their mom's stash of family recipes. The week I visited, they were featuring a new Pink Lemonade Pie that was one of Lenore's mom's favorites. As written it was made with a can of pink lemonade and cool whip, so they knew that wasn't going to fly. They reworked the recipe to include mascarpone cream, fresh raspberries and plum pulp. It sold like crazy. On a sleepy Sunday morning, I tried the Lemon Lavender Custard with Green Figs and their signature Salty Walnut. The custard pie is perhaps the most perfect late summer pie: the figs were sweet and tender and the custard was oh-so-lightly scented with lavender and lemon. The Salty Walnut was heartier with plenty of chopped local walnuts and little-bit-gooey filling. Not too sweet like so many nut pies with the perfect amount of salt. I can see why there were so many regulars. The couple sitting next to me in the Stable courtyard recounted some of their favorites this past summer. So far, the winner was the Red, White, and Blue Pie the gals did for the Fourth of July although to come to this conclusion, there was some major debate: "No remember that Berry Crumble one they did? Oh, wait what about that Lemony Custard?"

For these women the weeks start to run together. Weeks that are filled with slices of pie--a feeling the Three Babes can obviously relate to. But for The Babes, the pie flavors and the weeks don't so much run together as create a very full picture of a successful spring and summer that they're ready to grow from and build upon. As their production numbers keep rising and they question what their next move will be, they continue to make deliberate decisions in the kitchen not to grow too quickly. When I asked about saving time and using a sheeter instead of hand-rolling each pie, Lenore told me that just wasn't an option. It resulted in an inferior crust--something they're not willing to sacrifice for speed or greater production numbers. While they're looking ahead towards future opportunities, it's always with one foot firmly planted in place to remind them of the families that support them, the town that they came from, the farmers that supply their fruit, and the city the call now call home. From an outsider's point of view, regardless of the direction, it's looking bright and sunny for these women every which way.

Natalie Galatzer; photo by: Rachel Styer

As a fellow baker and small business owner, my heart dropped last week when I read that Bike Basket Pies was going to ride off into the sunset at the end of this month. So many folks all over the city have come to know and love Natalie Galatzer's hand-held sweet and savory seasonal creations, and the low-overhead business model inspired many newer businesses who were just starting out. It seemed from her weekly newsletter that Natalie was doing incredibly well, there were always new innovative flavors and fresh energy. So I couldn't help but wonder, why? I wanted to hear from Natalie about what led her to make the big decision to put the business on hold, and what might be in the cards for the future.

1. Some folks may not familiar with your story: Why pie? Why did you decide to begin a business around pie?
When I was in college, I had this really slow last semester and I convinced a house full of guy friends that I should be their house cook. There were 5 of them, and they all ate for 4-5 people (growing boys and all), so I was struggling to make enough food in their tiny kitchen. One day I was going to make a chicken pot pie but was intimidated by the crust -- my father had always made a home-made puff pastry crust for our pot pies growing up (my father was an amazing home cook -- I swear I'm not biased). I told my friend that I was going to buy a pre-made pie crust and he gave me a kinda dirty look and said "of all things, I'm sure you can make a pie crust." Soooo I pony'd up and made a pie crust. That's the first crust I remember making, although I'm sure I made one or two early on with my dad. And my mom loved, loved, looooved pie.

As for the business, after 2 years of AmeriCorps, I was unemployed and looking for something to do with food, and I loved baking and baked pies at least once a week and muffins, cakes, and cupcakes every other day. When the Magic Curry Kart and the Creme Brulee Cart started, I got inspired and a friend pushed me to do something myself. So I borrowed his basketed bike and sold pies in the park. The next week I was delivering, and after that I was working on turning my hobby into my (at that point, 4th) job.

2. You've spoken on your own website's FAQ about some of the reasons for leaving Bike Basket Pies: financial, loss of inspiration etc. Can you tell us a little about the decision-making process itself: did you wake up one morning and know it was over or had it been a long time coming
It definitely was a long time coming. This wasn't a light decision. Most of the process was really trying to figure out that maybe this business just wasn't for me -- and that didn't mean it, or I, failed. I gave myself a deadline -- get what I want, in an emotional and inspirational level, out of the business, or move on. So after 6 months, I decided it was time to explore something new and find a new project.

3. Can you talk a little about the food community here in the Bay Area? Did you feel nourished and supported by the community, and did you feel it helped further your growth as a small business owner?
Yes -- but I'm not sure I have very good specifics, or a very good answer for this. I mean, I started baking in the restaurant where I was waiting tables, essentially bartering to use the kitchen on the day they were closed and have a little shelf and fridge space. In return, I'd close up shop, run reports, simple stuff to help take some of the burden off the owner/chef. Louis (the owner/chef, my boss) was a huge help to me as I started and continued this business.

4. For me, when I'm in the kitchen baking and watching other bakers pump out cookies and cupcakes at a rate I could never dream of with pie, there are days I question the slow, slow craft of hand-rolling and crimping seasonal pies. Did you go through doubt in this sense or question what you were actually doing in terms of profitability/ability to keep up with demand?
I know exactly what you're talking about. Yes, yes and yes. Why did I not start "bike basket cookies" or, as a customer recently suggested "bike basket brownies?" It rolls right off the tongue, and I could make just as many brownies in probably a quarter of the time that I spent on pies. But, pie is special, pie is so much better than a brownie. You can't eat a brownie every day, maybe even every week. You can eat a different seasonal pie every week, and maybe even every day.

5. In thinking about the future, you allude to the fact you're open for other projects: anything in the works that you can share? What, in your ideal world, would you be embarking on next? What are you inspired/excited by?
I'm excited and inspired by sustainable food and environmentalism. Before I was doing Bike Basket Pies, I was working on sustainable fisheries issues and I like working on sustainable food -- but maybe not full time in the kitchen. Or, at least, not at 2 or 3 am. I've been putting some serious thought into what exactly it is about Bike Basket Pies that burned me out so badly, so I'm not ready to rule anything out except the lack of a full day off anywhere in the week and the insanely early morning hours.

It is time once again for my annual raspberry post. You see, early June is my time to contemplate all things raspberry. Why now? What’s stopping me from meditating on the delights of baked and fresh raspberry dishes in, say, April when spring starts, or July when everyone is making juicy fruit crisps? The answer is simple really: raspberries are actually in season now. Not in April or July. Now. Sure you can buy raspberries all year long; and if you’re a commercial grower I’m sure you can extend the season from early spring to late summer or even fall. But if you are a home gardener, this is your raspberry moment.

One thing to know about growing your own raspberries is that you can pretty much forget about the vines for most of the year. In my backyard, they sit alongside a fence near the barbecue. Throughout the summer they pretty much act as a green foliage background to cover up the fence. When summer is done, their leaves change color a bit and then start to fall, memories of their luscious fruit barely concealed by the apples that are ripening heavily above them. By the time winter arrives, I’m focused on pruning, cutting back dead wooden stalks to make room for younger shoots that will emerge soon, the skeletons of old flower buds that once housed berries now dry and sitting vacant. When spring arrives I am struck with just how lovely the small white flower buds are, peaking out of the verdant green leaves that are new and growing toward the sky. I’m always amazed at just how tall those vines then become in the span of a month or two, maturing and getting leggy like a young teenager until they reach the lower limbs of my apple tree. And then just when I’m getting ready for summer, the berries appear. It’s clandestine at first, with only a few hiding under lower leaves, their rich raspberry red peeking out. Excited and anxious to taste them, my family stands right out amidst the vines, eating as we pick, with none making their way into the house. Each day more berries ripen, until we are overwhelmed with them a week later, the vines literally drooping, laden with fruit.

It seem miraculous just how big my patch has become, and numerous the berries. After all, I planted only one lone vine in a gallon pot six years ago. Since that time, my patch has grown from a small one-foot area to 10 feet, now spanning half my side yard. Even better is that these vines are thornless, so I can let my kids romp through them on berry-picking missions without worrying about scratched arms or poked faces.

So what do we do with our haul of berries? In years past we have eaten our share of berry shortcakes and I’ve also tried my hand at making raspberry jam. This year, however, I decided to focus on making tarts. After years of purchasing expensive pastry cream and fruit tarts from La Farine, I thought it was time to get over my fear of making the perfect crust and cream filling. When all was said and done, my trusty pie crust recipe (which is really BAB blogger, Kim Laidlaw’s crust recipe) worked beautifully, and the pastry cream (a Williams-Sonoma recipe) couldn’t have been easier to whip up. My husband even said he liked the tart better than La Farine’s, although I wonder if he just liked saving the money.

So if you find yourself with some sweet ripe raspberries, try making a tart. It’s really the nicest way I can think of to bask in the season.

Recipe: Seasonal Raspberry Tart with Pastry Cream
A summer tart made with freshly prepared pastry cream, a flaky crust and just-picked raspberries.

Prep time: 20 minutes
Cook time: 30 minutes
Total time: 50 minutes
Yield: 1 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
2 cups fresh raspberries (washed and air dried)
1 batch pastry cream (see recipe below)
1 batch of tart dough (see recipe below)

Instructions:

1. Fit tart dough into your pan and blind bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees. Be sure to set some foil or parchment paper on top of the dough and then weigh it down with either pie weights or dried beans (which will become inedible after baking) to keep the dough from bubbling up in the oven.

2. Remove tart dough from the oven and remove the pie weights/beans and parchment paper/foil. Bake for another 10 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and cool.

3. When crust is cooled, spread the pastry cream along the bottom and then nestle the raspberries on top. You can dump them all on or organize in circles for a more uniform appearance.

4. Serve as is or top with whipped cream.

Recipe: Pastry Cream
(From Williams-Sonoma Cooking at Home by Chuck Williams and Kristine Kidd, printed with permission from Weldon Owen)

Cook time: 15 minutes
Yield: 1 cup

Ingredients:
1 cup milk
2 egg yolks
1/4 cup sugar
4 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
pinch of salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions:
In a small, heavy saucepan over medium heat, bring the milk to a simmer. Meanwhile, in a heatproof bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, cornstarch, and salt until well blended. Slowly add about one-third of the hot milk to the bowl with the yolk-sugar mixture, whisking constantly. Then pour the combined mixture back into the saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture comes to a boil and thickens slightly, about 3 minutes. Continue cooking, stirring constantly, for 1 minute longer.

Remove from the heat and pour through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a heatproof bowl. Gently stir in the butter until melted, then stir in the vanilla. Cover with plastic wrap, pressing it directly onto the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Poke a few holes in the plastic wrap to hasten cooling. Let cool, then cover tightly and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 2 hours, or up to 3 days.

Recipe: Flaky Pie or Tart Dough
(Adapted from a recipe by Kim Laidlaw)

Prep time: 10 minutes + 30 minutes refrigeration
Cook time: 30 minutes
Yield: Enough for one 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
1 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/4 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Instructions:
1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.

2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Happy May Day! My middle sister spent her college years at a small Seven Sisters school known for both its academic rigor and its fondness for Anglophile-ish, slightly archaic traditions (lots of teas there). On May 1st, the president of the college would ride into campus on a white horse, and students wore flower crowns and white dresses and sang hymns to the May before having strawberries and cream for breakfast.

White horses, sadly, do not have full representation in my part of Temescal. But the strawberries from just south of here are finally starting to get sweet (all that rain delayed the season somewhat). If you look, you can probably find some rhubarb, too. Any new kind of fruit is very welcome right now, during this season when the weather feels like spring but winter's kales and citrus are still hanging on.

Rhubarb

Remember that rainy scene in the beginning of Animal Vegetable Miracle, when author Barbara Kingsolver, in the first week of her locavore experiment, is despondent at the thought of returning home to her banana-less household with no fruit? Drenched by a spring downpour, she splashes through the farmers' market and is rewarded at last with a beautiful bundle of red-stemmed rhubarb.

Unless you're a gardener and an old-fashioned pie-lover, you've probably never seen rhubarb growing, and you might not recognize it even if you did. A perennial plant, it forms a low, leafy mound, with wide spinachy leaves the size of a hat. Look under the leaves and you'll see long, reddish stalks coming up from the ground. Grip one firmly and pull it out. Trim off the mildly toxic leaf, and there you have it, a sour, sour stalk of what used to be called pieplant.

Still, it doesn't take much sweetening to bring out its lovely tangy fruitiness, one that matches incredibly well with both strawberries and orange.

Lots of recipes tell you to put the rhubarb through all sorts of elaborate machinations before putting it in the pie. What a bunch of, well, rhubarb! Just cut it up, toss it with sugar and a little cornstarch, and you're on your way to pie heaven. The only caveat is that rhubarb contains a lot of water, which the sugar will pull out, so you want to make your filling just before you're ready to bake your pie. Otherwise, you'll end up with a lot of small pieces of fruit floating in a big puddle of syrupy liquid.

Don't go overboard with the cornstarch; being juicy is one of this pie's homemade charms. Vanilla ice cream is the perfect accompaniment.

Because this is a very juicy pie, it's good to use a lattice crust to let the steam out. Yes, making a proper lattice does take some concentration and a little finger-dexterity, but I find the few minutes' effort to be well-rewarded by the amazement this fancy-pants basket weave inspires. If, for some smart reason, your utensil drawer contains a little crinkled-edged pastry or ravioli wheel, now's the time to use it. It will make your pie crust look incredibly 1950s-cute.

So, this is how you do it: Lay your longest strip of dough across the middle of the pie. Then lay another long strip crosswise across the middle. Lay another strip down next the first. Then lay down another crosswise strip, only weave it under the first strip and over the second one. Keep doing this, alternating vertical and horizontal strips, lifting the strips as necessary to get that cute under-and-over pattern. If your strip breaks, just jam the pieces back together or hide the broken parts under another strip.

You can make this either as one pie or six three- to four-inch tarts. In order to get the right crust-to-fruit ratio, I would use tart pans or ramekins that are at least two inches deep.

Recipe: Strawberry Rhubarb Tarts

Summary:These pretty pink tarts are a sweet, tangy taste of spring. Because the filling is very moist, it's best served the day it's made, to avoid a soggy bottom crust. You can also make this as a single strawberry rhubarb pie.

By Stephanie Rosenbaum

Prep time: 2 hours, plus 1 hour chilling time for dough
Cook time: 45 min
Total time: 3 hours 45 min
Yield: 6 tarts or 1 pie

Ingredients

Crust:
• 2 1/2 cups flour
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tbsp sugar
• 2 sticks (1/2 lb) butter, very cold
• 1 tbsp cider vinegar
• 6-8 tbsp ice water

Filling:

• 5- 6 stalks rhubarb, about 1 1/2 lbs, trimmed and chopped into 1/2-inch pieces (should make about 4 cups)
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 4 tsp cornstarch
• 1 tsp finely grated orange rind
• 1 box organic strawberries, hulled and sliced

Instructions

1. In a large bowl, mix dry ingredients. Cut butter into cubes, and toss in dry ingredients until butter is completely coated. Using a pastry blender or your fingertips, cut butter into flour until it is the size of biggish peas. Leave it chunkier than you think you should.
2. Mix cider vinegar into water. Add 5 tbsp of water mixture all at once, stirring and tossing with your fingertips. Gently scooping and mixing in any dry patches as you go, add just enough more water so that you can squeeze a handful of dough together into a rough ball. Flatten into two disks, wrap in plastic (or pop into 2 large resealable plastic bags) and chill for at least an hour.
3. Then, roll out one round on a well-floured surface. For tarts, cut circles of dough just slightly larger than each tart pan. Drape each dough circle over a tart pan and gently press it in so pan is lined evenly. Put tart pans back in fridge to chill while you make your filling.
4. Preheat oven to 375F. Mix sugar and cornstarch together, and pour over rhubarb, strawberries, and orange rind. Toss it a few times. Set aside while you roll out the top crust.
5. Roll out your second dough round. Cut your top crust into strips for the lattice.
6. Take the chilled crusts out of the fridge. Scoop filling generously into each pan, adding in the sugary goo from the bottom of the bowl. (If it seems like you have a lot of liquid left in the bowl, pour it off before you scoop in any leftover goo.) Weave your lattice on top of each tart. Sprinkle with sugar and place on a big foil-lined baking sheet in the oven. (Why a baking sheet? Because some juice going to bubble over and burn, and a baking sheet is easier to clean than the bottom of the oven.)
7. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until crust is golden and filling is juicy and bubbling. Don't worry if filling seems a little soupy at first; it will thicken as it cools.

If you ask me what my most frequently referenced dessert cookbook is, I'd tell you it's The Joy of Cooking: All About Pies and Tarts. This little book by Irma Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker and Ethan Becker shines with great American pie recipes and tips on foolproof pie dough, how to make hand pies, and finessing the fine art of latticework.

It's a keeper and I think that can largely be attributed to the fact that it's a concentrated tome that's devoted to one small subject and is researched within an inch of its life--not as common with cookbooks these days. From what I've gathered, it's now out of print, but there are many used copies out there; I snagged one at Green Apple Books so it's certainly not impossible.

What I love about the book is it's such a good starting point. All of the recipes in Joy of Cooking: All About Pies and Tarts are solid, from their Shoofly Pie to the Vanilla Cream Pie or Sweet Potato Pie. I always find myself starting here, exploring at least one other recipe and then making adaptations to come up with my own version. So why go to all this work in the first place? For many food bloggers who like to cite recipes on their webpage, adapting an original recipe is important for copyright and legal reasons. Many folks have written on this subject in thought-provoking and sometimes even contentious ways, including Diane Jacob and David Lebovitz.

But for bakers like myself, it's also important to adapt recipes to keep up with the times and trends of your customer. And your own tastes. Or those of your mom or your great Aunt Sally. You get the picture. A telling example is the Pecan Pie that appears in Joy of Cooking: All About Pies and Tarts. It's a very classic, common recipe that you're likely to see if you google "Pecan Pie." But it's a little too sweet for my tastes: it's got more of that ooey, goeey-ness going on than I prefer. In general, when working on adapting a baking recipe, I think about the following factors:

Adapting Recipes to Keep up With Trends
• Use less sugar whenever possible to allow the other ingredients to shine
• Use local ingredients when possible
• Use real ingredients (no margarine or Crisco unless when imperative for the end result)
• Pare down the number of steps and processes to make it as easy for your reader (or yourself) as possible.
• Always ask yourself, is there an easier/more commonsense way?
• Likewise, ask yourself: what about this recipe do I like and what must go?

So what I did with the pie recipe is add bittersweet chocolate and espresso powder to balance out the sweetness, took down the amount of corn syrup and sugar, and used my favorite flaky pie dough. And voila: now we're talking. I took a cue from the Baked Cookbook on grinding half of the pecans and laying the other half on top (they also use a dark chocolate in their pie) and got the espresso powder idea from the lovely and always spot-on Dorie Greenspan. So then what are we left with? A pie pecan pie fans love, but also a pie that has coverted many naysayers. Recently at the farmer's market, I traded a slice of this pie with one of the farmers for some meyer lemons and fennel. After one bite, he took a seat and said to me, "Now this is a 'sit down, close your eyes and enjoy' kind of pie." Hopefully you'll feel the same way. If you don't, adapt away! After all, that's what it's all about. We all start somewhere.

Recipe: Dark Chocolate Pecan Pie

By Megan Gordon

Adapted from: The Joy of Cooking: All About Pies and Tarts

Summary: This is a different take on your typical overly-sweet pecan pie, with the addition of bittersweet chocolate and espresso powder. You'll never look back.

Prep time: 25 min
Cook time: 35 min
Total time: 1 hour
Yield: 1 9" pie (6-9 servings)

The pie dough recipe below yields two disks and you will only need one for this recipe. I always freeze the other for later use. For this pie, I do think the quality of chocolate makes a difference. I use a 72% Callebaut Bittersweet Chocolate.

Ingredients

• Pate Brisee for the pie dough
• 2 cups pecan halves
• 3 large eggs
• 3/4 cup light corn syrup
• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 2 tablespoons light brown sugar
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon espresso powder
• 1/2 cup bittersweet chocolate chips

Instructions

1. Roll one disk of the pie dough to fit a 9-inch pan. Trim any overhang, roll the edges under, and flute the edges. Place pan in freezer while you prepare the filling.
2. Preheat oven to 350 F. Coarsely chop 1 cup of pecans by hand or in the food processor.
3. In a large bowl, whisk the corn syrup and sugars together. Whisk in the melted butter, then add the eggs one at a time, beating until you have a smooth mixture.
4. Add the espresso powder, vanilla and salt. Stir in the chopped pecans and chocolate chips and set aside.
5. Take pan out of freezer (and if you're using a glass Pyrex, be careful not to put it directly in the oven from the freezer--give it a few minutes) and fill partially frozen pie shell with the filling. Lay the remaining pecans on top in a decorative circular pattern.
6. Bake for 30-35 minutes or just until the middle has puffed and no longer jiggles when tapped. When cooled, the middle of the pie will flatten out.

Store, tightly wrapped, in the refrigerator for 2-3 days.

There's a lot about this post that feels a little self-indulgent largely because I'm writing it and it's all about my new baking business, Marge. I've been waiting for the right time to announce it here on Bay Area Bites, and now seems as good a time as any. Although really this post is more about launching a small business without a storefront in the confusing (and expensive!) world of health permits, legal documents, licenses and occasional slammed doors. So without further ado, meet Marge.

The idea for Marge began last spring. I decided I'd open a bakery. I've always loved baking, had signed up to study at San Francisco Baking Institute and mentor at Comforts in Marin. I was already baking for private clients at the time and knew that what I really wanted out of a career was to work for myself. It wasn't important to me to have enough expendable income to fly to Hawaii every Christmas, but being able to support myself selling pie sounded pretty darn good. So begins the fun part. Real estate! Vintage wallpaper! Pretty display cases with distressed wood! And that lasted all of three weeks. Three glorious weeks, but three weeks nonetheless. And then reality hit. Those of you who have built-out a kitchen from scratch (or know someone who has) know how expensive it is. And for those of you who have ever looked for a charming, affordable retail space with a lovely pre-existing kitchen all ready and waiting for you-- you know they're a rare (read: almost never) find. So I regrouped.

I decided I needed a business license. It seemed like a good logical step and you basically just fill out a form, write a check, and 'Bam' you've got yourself a business. Perfect. Or so I thought.

My visit to City Hall went something like this:

Clerk: Ma'am we're confused about the category of your business.
Me: It's a baking business. We'll have a storefront someday, but right now we're going to do pop-ups, deliveries, catering--you know, keep it casual.
Clerk: Ma'am, there's really no category for "casual."
Me: Look, I don't know. Call it whatever you want.
Clerk: Ma'am you need to choose a category.
Me (flustered, confused, wishing I could coerce him with pie): I understand. I just need a business license in order to get a health permit in order to get my commercial kitchen in order to get my business bank account. Can you just help me out a little here?
Clerk: Well we need a physical address.
Me: O.k....
Clerk: Why don't you put down the location where your accountant and bookkeeper do the books.

I stood there smiling and thinking to myself, "If you only knew that you're staring right at the accountant and bookkeeper, the owner and the baker."

And so began all the legal/totally unfun stuff. It's all very cart before the horse: you need one document before you can get another but the timing doesn't work and none of the agencies talk to each other and you lose a little sleep. And some nights, a lot of sleep. This was nothing like picking out vintage wallpaper. Instead, it involved health inspections and a lot of bureaucracy. Even for a small business like Marge, inspectors often come to check out your kitchen, where you store your ingredients, and your processes for packaging. It's daunting when you're not quite sure what all your processes are yet. And it all seemed a little odd because I still wasn't quite sure how I was defining the business. I now had all of these forms in place but nowhere to actually sell my product.

Then I decided that I may not have a storefront, but people have got to try what I'm baking at Marge or the word will never get out. I brought around samples to businesses, farmer's markets, and folks in my neighborhood. I got a business cell phone. When it rang two days later, I literally dropped it in the sink and missed the call. Orders started coming in around the holidays despite my temporary website. I did the SF Underground Farmer's Market in December -- our first public event-- and it was awesome. The pop-tarts and apple pies sold out, lots of friends came out to support Marge, and I met some great food folks starting their business in a similar fashion. And then I got a call from the new Marin Country Mart farmer's market (a quick ferry ride from the city, by the way) that they'd love to have Marge as a permanent staple on Saturday mornings. I can't tell you how thrilled I am: my weekends are now one big ol' bake sale and I can't imagine anything better.

So my strategy for now: get out there in other farmer's markets throughout the spring and summer and do local events that I'm excited about. Start getting Marge products out in local coffee shops and cafes and spreading the word about old-fashioned pies and nostalgic desserts. Make new friends. Meet new people. Forget all about vintage wallpaper (for now). And see where that takes us. Who knows? Maybe I'll be back here in the fall chatting all about our cute storefront. But for now, it's all good.

To get the latest on Marge, sign up for the newsletter and check out the website for the seasonal menu, contact information, and the full scoop on Marge. You can follow Marge on twitter @MargeBakery and on Facebook to learn about new events and markets we're doing. Come and visit us at the Marin Country Mart Farmer's Market, and of course, we deliver and cater as well. Pie is good. Having someone make it for you is even better.