In the proverbial blast from the past, the homely little brown, cream-filled Whoopie Pie was splashed all over the cover of the New York Time’s Dining section yesterday.
It seems that this low-brow staple of the 50’s and 60’s lunchbox is now showing up in upscale bakeries and restaurants across the country. The NYT article suggests that the “snacks invoke a more homespun era that seems to provide some comfort amid the economic gloom.”
The traditional Whoopie Pie is sort of cookie, sort of cake, sort of pie. NYT reporter Micheline Maynard describes it:
“The filling is generally of one of two types: a thick, sweet frosting made from Crisco shortening combined with confectioners’ sugar, or, more conveniently, a dollop of Marshmallow Fluff.
“The cake itself is typically not especially sweet, and is often on the dry side, since the frosting lends plenty of sugar and a gooey consistency, said Sandra Oliver, a food historian and columnist in Islesboro, Me.”Maynard also chats with Amy Emberling of Zingerman’s Bakehouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan about the
origins of the no-nonsense nosh.
“Food historians believe whoopie pies originated in Pennsylvania, where they were baked by Amish women and put in farmers’ lunchboxes. Tired from a morning’s work, the farmers purportedly would shout “Whoopie!” if they discovered one of the desserts in their lunch pails, Ms. Emberling said.”
I’m sure that yesterday’s tantalizing photo and vivid descriptions of pumpkin Whoopie Pies at Kim’s Kitchen in Evanston Illinois (pictured here) and buttercream delights at Zingerman’s will turn on a lot of people around the country…and give a boost to the resurgence of the plebian Pie.
But here in Seattle, where I’m parked for a while helping my son get over ACL surgery, all credit for the Whoopie Pie’s popularity goes directly to Quinn’s Pub, a new gastro-pub from Scott Staples, the genius behind Restaurant Zoë.
This is a Whoopie Pie to devour, with gooey fingers, and a good friend – it’s wrapped in aluminum foil and cut in half.
According to Quinn’s Chef de Cuisine Sam Crannell, the cake is made with lots of cocoa, a magical blend of whipped butter and Crisco, and just a little sugar. The stuffing is a fragrant vanilla buttercream.
“My sous-chef (Michael Robert Shaw) grew up on the East Coast and his Grandma made these all the time,” said Crannell. “It’s a childhood delight that we brought back and started playing with. It’s become a really big hit for us.”
The Whoopie Pie isn’t the only reason to head to this atmospheric spot in the Pike-Pine neighborhood. The foie gras mousse, served in a weensy Mason jar with buttery triangles of brioche toast, is extraordinary: light and elegant, smooth and exploding with flavor. The tiny Painted Hills meatballs are savory and nestled into creamy polenta. Homemade sausages are delicious and creatively garnished. And the Molasses Brined Carlton Farms Pork Loin with a Port wine glaze and buttery Brussels sprouts hash that I ate on St. Patrick’s Day (before the Whoopie Pie!) is a shoo-in for my Best Foods of 2009 list.
As if that’s not enough of a lure, Quinn’s is a particularly inviting pub, that “hits the sweet spot between hangout and full-on restaurant” (according to Seattle Weekly), with what The Seattle Times called “a ramshackle chic décor.”
Oh, yeah. The prices. Snacks and small plates go for $3 to about $10 for the wild boar sloppy Joe with crispy sage leaves. “Large Plates” average 15 bucks.
Whoopie!
I'm so glad to hear that you enjoyed what has been a hit in our family for over 50 years. When my son called last fall for my or should I say(my Mother's) recipe for Whoopie pie's, I thought he was going to make a batch for his friend's in Seattle. Many of them had never hear of these little delights. So, you can imagine my surprise to hear they went on the menu at Quinn's. We are so pleased and proud of Mike and the crew at Quinn's to be able to share with the West coast,what we on the East coast have been indulging in for years. Love from Maine, Susan Robertshaw
Posted by: Susan Robertshaw | March 23, 2009 at 05:17 PM