Chocolate Ganache Cream Pie —rsquo; The One You Make When Your Brother Gets Married

Kevin and Lisa got married on Saturday, January 22, at the Multnomah County Courthouse in Portland. Seven people present: Kevin, Lisa, Lisa's sister Megan, James, me, Karen (who made the drive down with David despite everyone telling her she did not have to), and David. We watched from a courthouse waiting room the size of a dentist's office. A clerk married them. It took nine minutes. Lisa wore a navy blue dress. Kevin wore a gray suit and a tie I had sent him for Christmas. He looked, for the first time in my memory, like a grown-up man. I mean that in the best way. He looked like a man who had built himself out of hard earned pieces and who was now, in this courthouse, claiming something he had once believed he could not have.

After the ceremony we all went to a restaurant Kevin and Lisa love — a small place in the Alberta Arts District with a wood-fired oven and a tiny menu and very good wine that Kevin has not drunk for nearly four years and nobody is drinking around him tonight except Lisa and Megan, because when the wedding is dry, everyone is dry. We ate pizzas and a kale salad that was somehow not boring. Lisa said at one point, "I cannot believe I married a guy who drinks decaf coffee for pleasure," and Kevin said, "You married that man knowingly," and everyone laughed. Karen said, through her tremors, "You are going to be so happy, both of you." Lisa cried. Kevin cried. David, who does not cry, did not cry but did take his glasses off and clean them for a weirdly long time.

I drove home with James and Karen and David — we had taken two cars down — and I was in the passenger seat with Karen dozing against the window behind me and David very focused on the freeway and James very quiet and I thought: this is a family. We made it. We are still making it. Kevin got married today. He got married in a small room with a clerk who had done it a hundred times, and we were all there, and he has a wife now, and she is a good one, and none of the worst versions of this family that I used to fear came true.

Jisoo wrote on Monday (her Tuesday) about the wedding. I had told her in advance. She wrote: "Tell your brother I send him my blessing. Tell his wife I already love her because he does. Tell them both I will meet them someday, if they will come." I read this to Kevin on Tuesday. He was quiet for a while and then said, "Tell her I... tell her thank you. Tell her I might come someday. I'm not saying I will. But I might." I told her. She wrote back: "Someday or never. Either is fine. He is my son in my heart."

I am going to stop keeping this close. Jisoo calling Kevin her son. It shouldn't work. It does. Love is promiscuous in the good way. Love enlarges. I have two mothers and my brother has a mother again by borrowing mine and my mother Jisoo is, here in January, collecting a son by proxy and she is doing it because love, given permission, goes everywhere.

Work: the Q1 grind. Nothing to report. I coded on Wednesday for an hour. I ran seven meetings on Thursday. The pattern is the pattern.

The recipe this week is a simple white sheet cake. I made one for Kevin and Lisa on Sunday morning at the condo, put it in a box, and drove it down to them. No fondant. No message. Vanilla cake, vanilla buttercream, a little salt, a little cardamom because I could not resist. Lisa ate half in two days.

I had planned to make a white sheet cake — and I did, I made that one too — but the pie came first, the night before, because sometimes a celebration needs something darker and richer and a little more serious than buttercream. Kevin’s wedding was nine minutes in a courthouse and thirty years of hard work, and that called for ganache. This chocolate ganache cream pie is the kind of thing you make when you want the food to carry some weight without saying a word about it: no message piped in frosting, no candles, just something smooth and bittersweet and good, carried in a box down I-5 to a condo in Portland where two people just got married.

Chocolate Ganache Cream Pie

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 40 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 pre-baked 9-inch pie crust (store-bought or homemade), cooled completely
• 1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream, divided
• 10 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips or finely chopped semi-sweet chocolate
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 8 oz cream cheese, softened to room temperature
• 1 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream (for the cream layer)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract (for the cream layer)
• Flaky sea salt and chocolate shavings, for finishing (optional)

Instructions

1. Make the ganache. Place chocolate chips, butter, salt, and vanilla in a heatproof bowl. Heat 1 cup of heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat until it just begins to simmer — do not boil. Pour hot cream over the chocolate mixture and let sit undisturbed for 2 minutes, then whisk from the center outward until completely smooth and glossy.
2. Cool the ganache. Pour roughly two-thirds of the ganache into the bottom of the cooled pie crust, spreading it into an even layer. Reserve the remaining ganache in the bowl. Refrigerate the crust for 30 minutes until the ganache layer is set but not hard. Keep reserved ganache at room temperature, stirring occasionally.
3. Make the cream filling. Beat softened cream cheese with an electric mixer on medium speed until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. Add powdered sugar and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and beat until incorporated. In a separate bowl, whip the remaining 1/2 cup heavy cream to stiff peaks. Fold the whipped cream gently into the cream cheese mixture in two additions until no streaks remain.
4. Assemble the pie. Spoon the cream filling over the set ganache layer and smooth it to the edges with an offset spatula. Pour the reserved ganache over the cream layer, tilting the pie slowly to spread it into an even top coat. Work quickly — the ganache will begin to set as it hits the cold cream.
5. Chill and set. Refrigerate the assembled pie for at least 2 hours, or overnight. Before serving, finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and chocolate shavings if desired. Slice with a thin sharp knife wiped clean between cuts.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 520 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 38g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg