Hard Sauce — The Perfect Finish to Karen’s Christmas Pie

Christmas week. Twenty-six weeks pregnant — the third trimester begins. Hana is the size of a head of lettuce and she is using my bladder as a trampoline. I am up three times a night. James sleeps through all of it. I do not resent this. I resent this a little. I resent this a lot at 3 AM when I am standing in the bathroom for the fourth time and he is snoring with the peaceful oblivion of a man whose internal organs are not being rearranged by a small person.

Christmas dinner at Bellevue. The usual cast: David, Karen, Kevin, Lisa, James, me and Hana (in utero, kicking through the meal like an uninvited but enthusiastic guest). Ming and Wei did not come this year — they are saving their trip for the birth in March. Karen made pies with David's help. Karen can no longer roll pie dough alone — the tremor is too severe — but she directed David with the precision of a general commanding troops. "More flour, David. Roll from the center. Not that much pressure." David rolled pie dough under military supervision. The pies were excellent.

I made japchae, bulgogi, and a new dish — braised short ribs in doenjang, a recipe I developed for the January subscription box. Kevin brought Bridge City Roasters coffee and a small bag of single-origin beans for David, who has become, in retirement, a surprisingly dedicated pour-over coffee drinker. Kevin taught David the V60 method last Christmas. David now brews V60 every morning. Karen says, "Your father has become a barista. At eighty." Kevin says, "He's my best customer." David says, "The V60 is superior to the drip machine and I should have known this twenty years ago."

Jisoo FaceTimed during dinner. She held up a plate of her Christmas dinner — she and Jun-ho eat a small Korean meal, nothing festive, because Christmas in Korea is a young person's holiday and Jisoo is seventy-four and does not need a tree to celebrate. But she had made miyeokguk — seaweed soup — and she said, "I made this for Hana." I said, "Umma, Hana is not born yet." She said, "The soup is for Hana through you. You eat the soup, Hana receives the soup." I am not going to argue with Korean grandmother science. I asked her to mail me dried miyeok. She said she would mail it Monday.

Kevin and I had our porch conversation after dinner. It was cold. We could see our breath. He said, "Next Christmas, Hana will be here." I said, "Nine months old." He said, "I am going to teach her to walk." I said, "Kevin, she will be nine months old. She will not be walking." He said, "She's a Park-Chen. She will be advanced." He was making a joke. But underneath the joke was something real: Kevin wants to be part of Hana's life. Kevin, who spent a decade lost to addiction, who almost didn't make it, who is now sober and stable and running a coffee company in Portland — Kevin wants to be an uncle. He wants to be present. He is choosing to be present. Presence is the opposite of what addiction took from him. Every time he shows up — at Christmas, on Sunday calls, at baby showers via FaceTime — he is choosing presence. And I see it. And it matters.

The recipe this week is Karen's apple pie, because it is Christmas and because Karen made it with David's hands and her own instructions and it was perfect. Pie crust: flour, cold butter, ice water, salt, a tablespoon of sugar. Cut the butter into the flour until it resembles coarse sand. Add ice water tablespoon by tablespoon until the dough holds. Chill for one hour. Roll. Fill with sliced Granny Smith apples tossed with sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, a squeeze of lemon, a tablespoon of flour. Dot with butter. Top crust. Crimp the edges. Bake at 375 for fifty minutes. The pie is golden and the kitchen smells like every Christmas of my childhood and Karen is in her chair watching the pie through the oven window and her hands are shaking and her face is proud and the pie is perfect.

Karen’s pie didn’t need anything, technically — it was golden and perfect and it smelled like every good Christmas I can remember. But after dinner, when the plates were cleared and Kevin and I came back in from the cold and David was rinsing mugs for pour-over and Jisoo’s miyeokguk was still warm in my stomach, I thought about what Karen used to serve alongside pie when I was small: hard sauce, old-fashioned and slightly boozy, the kind of thing that makes a slice of apple pie feel like a real occasion. This Christmas, with Hana kicking through dessert and Karen watching the oven with proud, shaking hands, felt like exactly the right time to bring it back.

Hard Sauce

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 2 tablespoons brandy (or bourbon, or dark rum)
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• Pinch of fine salt
• Freshly grated nutmeg, for serving

Instructions

1. Beat the butter. Using a hand mixer or stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the softened butter on medium speed for 2—3 minutes until pale and fluffy.
2. Add the sugar. Reduce speed to low and add the sifted powdered sugar a little at a time, mixing until fully incorporated and smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
3. Add flavorings. Add the brandy, vanilla extract, and pinch of salt. Increase speed to medium and beat for another minute until light and well combined. Taste and adjust brandy or sugar as desired.
4. Chill. Transfer the hard sauce to a small serving bowl or ramekin. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes — it will firm up as it chills.
5. Serve. Remove from the refrigerator 10 minutes before serving to soften slightly. Top with a grating of fresh nutmeg. Spoon over warm apple pie, bread pudding, or any holiday dessert.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 30mg