Apple Custard Pie

2018. Two years since the floor. I don't do resolutions but I do take stock, and the stock this year is: I am twenty-eight and employed and medicated and therapied and writing a food blog and dating a paramedic and cooking every day and standing up. Two years ago, standing up was the goal. Now standing up is the baseline. The goals have expanded. The woman has expanded. The kitchen, somehow, feels bigger.

New Year's Media Noche at Lourdes's. Round fruits for prosperity, pancit for long life, leche flan because I'm the flan person now — that's my role, the way Angela is the fruit salad person and Lourdes is the everything person. Jason brought a fruit platter, which Lourdes examined with the scrutiny of a customs agent and pronounced "adequate." Adequate from Lourdes, for a non-Filipino bringing fruit to a Filipino New Year's, is generous.

Mark called from San Diego. He and Carmen are doing well — dating for a year now, serious, the kind of serious that Lourdes measures in how often he mentions her name. Joseph called from Kodiak with engine noise in the background, which Lourdes hates because it reminds her that her son is on the ocean in winter, which is factually the most dangerous thing any of her children does, and Lourdes has expressed this concern approximately seventeen thousand times and will express it seventeen thousand more.

I made suman for the New Year — the sticky rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves, the simple ones, rolled in sugar when you eat them. Suman is celebratory in the quietest way — no fireworks, no drama, just warm rice wrapped in leaves, dipped in sugar, eaten with hands. The celebration is in the eating, not the spectacle. I'm learning to celebrate that way — quietly, internally, with rice and sugar and the knowledge that I am here, at this table, in this year, with these people. The celebration is the presence. The suman is the proof.

Midnight. We toasted with sparkling cider — I don't drink, Jason wasn't drinking, Lourdes had one glass of red wine that she nursed all evening with the discipline of a woman who has opinions about excess and applies them selectively. Angela and James kissed at midnight. Lourdes looked away with theatrical disapproval that fooled no one. I stood next to Jason and we didn't kiss — we were in Lourdes's kitchen, and some things require privacy — but he squeezed my hand and the squeeze contained the year: the floor, the recovery, the cooking, the writing, the us. 2018. Another year. Another squeeze. Let's see what it makes.

I’ve held the leche flan role long enough that it’s started to feel like identity — Lourdes has her everything, Angela has her fruit salad, and I have the custard. So when I started thinking about what to share here alongside that New Year’s story, I wanted something that lived in the same register: soft, set, a little yielding, sweet without being loud. This apple custard pie has the same quality as a good flan — it asks you to slow down, to wait for it, to eat it at a table with people you love. The apples give it a quiet brightness, and the custard holds everything together, which felt right for a year that was, finally, starting to hold together too.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (store-bought or homemade)
2 medium apples, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 cup granulated sugar (for apples)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar (for custard)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 375°F (190°C). Fit your pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish and crimp the edges. Refrigerate while you prepare the filling.
Season the apples. In a medium bowl, toss the sliced apples with lemon juice, 1/4 cup sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg until evenly coated. Set aside for 10 minutes to let the apples release a little juice.
Make the custard. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, 3/4 cup sugar, and salt until pale and slightly thickened, about 1 minute. Whisk in the vanilla extract, heavy cream, milk, and melted butter until smooth and fully combined.
Assemble the pie. Remove the chilled crust from the refrigerator. Arrange the seasoned apple slices in an even layer on the bottom of the crust. Slowly pour the custard mixture over the apples, allowing it to settle between the slices.
Bake. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake at 375°F for 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 325°F (165°C) and continue baking for 35–40 minutes, until the custard is just set at the edges but has a slight wobble in the center. A knife inserted 1 inch from the edge should come out clean.
Cool completely. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and let it cool to room temperature, at least 2 hours. The custard will continue to set as it cools. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour before slicing for the cleanest cuts.
Serve. Slice and serve chilled or at room temperature. A dollop of lightly whipped cream alongside is welcome but not required — the pie is complete on its own.

Nutrition (per serving)

Apple Custard Pie — For the Flan Person at the Table