Anna Bninski ‘23
Executive Editor
Over winter break, I stumbled on an internet controversy: what is the best way to make pie crust? Is it to use Crisco? All butter? Do you, counterintuitively, incorporate vodka into the dough?[1] Does the mixing bowl have to be chilled? Does the butter have to be frozen? If you knead the dough one instant too long, are you doomed to produce an inedible slab that only beavers have adequate jaw power to chew?
For those who, like me, crave a sense of control and accomplishment, let me recommend the project of pie making. Nothing says “I definitely don’t care that I’ve been waiting for my fall grades for a month, while also society crumbles in the face of a pandemic and sustained political turmoil” like concocting four different fillings for a batch of hand pies.
Of course, a law student may have some additional questions before committing to this kind of research project. What are the necessary traits for an item to be characterized as pie crust? What authorities define “good” pie crust? If you make a crust but never fill it, does it become mere “crust” or is there a legal fiction of pie? Does a custard pie to the face constitute the tort of battery? Is buying a premade crust a signal of moral defeat, in the manner of a crushed idealist going into BigLaw “definitely just to learn the ways of the enemy”?[2] If your crust is damaged, can you successfully sue someone? (The answer to that, of course, is “maybe.”)[3]
Although pastry case law offers a variety of “good” pie crust definitions, a commonly cited trait is “flakiness.” While generally annoying in people, flakiness—achieved by making a dough that contains perfectly sized pockets of fat, be that butter or other shortening—separates crusts that are mere containers for tasty filling from those that are an experience. An experience that ideally leaves flecks of golden-brown crust absolutely everywhere.
I embarked on this research project much as I did upon my law school career: overconfident and unprepared for the mess that would follow. And just as in outlining season, when I invariably stand upon the shoulders of those academic giants who have the wherewithal to make comprehensive, color-coded monuments of information, I benefited from the hard work of those who came before. Did y’all know that there are a lot of recipe blogs out there? It’s wild.
Because my outlines will never help anyone, let me offer this pearl of wisdom instead: It’s all about the frozen butter.[4] Seriously. Once you have your dry ingredients (probably just flour and salt) in a bowl, grab that stick of butter and grate it right in. Shred it like you’re J. Alito and that butter is a statute that could, conceivably, burden a religious practice. Add a little ice water, smush it all together, and chill it in the fridge for a while before rolling it out, filling it with something, and baking.
We may be embarking on careers in a field with mental health statistics that headlines describe as “startling,” “upsetting,” and “a problem.” But for a little while, the audible crunch of a perfectly flaky crust can drown out the woes of law school.
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amb6ag@virginia.edu
[1] This may, in fact, be intuitive to law students; the counterintuitive part is baking the alcohol out.
[2] No. If you’re making a pie at all, you’re making the world a better place.
[3] Pillsbury Co. v. W. Carrollton Parchment Co., 287 F. App'x 824 (11th Cir. 2008) (finding a material question of fact as to whether appellee negligently failed to warn of danger to crusts) (this is real).
[4] If you are making the crust by hand. Many recipes suggest a food processor, which I am not blessed with at this time.