Missed the setup? Read Concord Grape Pie, Part 1.

Alright, so I had my hands on the elusive Concord grapes, and my mother-in-law had emailed the recipe weeks ago, when I first told her of my quest for Concord grapes. I wished that I didn’t live 500+ miles away, because she sounded quite wistful about the grape pie (as wistful as one can sound in an email), and I thought that it would be nice to give her a piece or make her a grape pie of her very own as a thank you. I also thought it would be great if some other grape pie fans lived nearby, so I could give them the remains of what I was sure would be a disastrous dessert without having to feel guilty for throwing it in the trash. Can you feel the optimism?

I will warn you that this pie will require some manual labor. Concord grapes have seeds, which may explain why they aren’t found in supermarkets around here (less mass appeal?), and you not only have to squeeze the pulp out of the skins (slip-skin grapes are neato!), but you also have to sieve the pulp to remove the seeds. I actually didn’t mind getting a little sticky and pulpy, and I had to say that the scent of the grapes was starting to appeal to me. However, I was still very concerned about the texture of the finished pie, as I didn’t want to think about biting into slimy, chewy grape skins. The mere thought of it gave me chills. So, I devised a plan. I would use my handy stick blender to pulverize some of the skins and to break up the remainder.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the blending not only broke up the skins, but they also released a lovely purply hue that colored the filling. This definitely looked much more appealing than the slime green pulp with dark purple skins floating in it. I poured the mixture into a par-baked pie crust, sprinkled the crumble on top, shoved it into the oven, and hoped for the best.

I had to admit (rather proudly, I might add) that the pie came out of the oven looking wonderful. Bubbly, purple-magenta filling peeked out from beneath the golden brown crumble, and it smelled incredible. But I was still unsure about how this was going to taste. Goodness knows that I’d made my share of baked goods that smelled great but tasted like…well, we’re not going to go there.

After the pie had cooled, I whipped up some cream for the top and had to hold B back from digging right into the pie with his hands. As I held the dessert plate which contained the smallest sliver of pie that I could cut, I began to dread taking the first bite. A third party might have thought that I was about to eat monkey brains or goat eyeball, a delicacy in some parts of the world but completely unappealing to me, from the grimace on my face. But I had to take the first bite sometime, especially since B was waiting for my reaction before he took his first bite. Chomp…

Oh. My. Goodness. This pie was heaven. The rich, sweet flavor filled my mouth as my eyes bugged out, and a huge smile came to B’s face because he knew. He knew that I was in love with this wonderful pie, and he knew that I would go out of my way to find the elusive Concord grapes every year because this pie is that good. The texture didn’t bother me at all. Skins? What skins? The only thing that bothered me was the thought that I needed to finish this sliver of pie as quickly as possible so I could get another, and another, and another. To this day, I apologize to B for ever having a doubt about grape pie.

When I decided to go gluten and sugar free about a year ago, I was so sad because I thought that I may never get to enjoy this wonderful pie again, and I think that I may have shed a tear or two of joy when, this year, I successfully made a xylitol-sweetened version with a gluten free tart crust. B actually said that he liked this version better than the original! My sugar free, gluten free version is below, but you can simply substitute the xylitol with sugar and use the pie or tart crust of your choice to make your version of the pie that rocked my world.