Raspberry Nectarine Galette.

As previously mentioned, I went to Portland at the beginning of August. We stayed in NE Portland, and the very first morning we were there we decided that it was appropriate to have pie for breakfast. So we headed to the neighbourhood pie joint, which was really very good.


I had quiche, and Paul had a curried leek pot pie, and then we split a sweet pie. Raspberry Nectarine pie, to be precise.

Portland Pie.

Portland Pie.

That pie made me realize how few mixed-fruit pies I’ve made during this project – really, none. Yet, way back in the day when my only urban source for pie was a certain Montréal chain, my go-to pie of choice was the peach-raspberry crumb pie. Granted, I chose that one because they didn’t have a straight-up peach pie, and as a general rule I much prefer top crusts to crumb toppings (crumb toppings are so sweet!) but clearly, I’ve been forgetting a whole delicious realm of mixed fruit pies that I once loved so dearly.


So I decided to make my own raspberry nectarine pie when we returned to Smog Town. I made my double crust pastry and chilled it. And then…the nectarines chose to spite me. I don’t know if they just were a bit underripe, or whether nectarines always want to cling to their pits much more than peaches do (or at least, much more than freestone peaches want to). Basically, when I tried to cut them in half in order to pit them, instead of coming apart the entire peel would come off in my hand and then I’d be left with a slippery nectarine in my hand that STILL didn’t want to come apart or relinquish its pit. It was a messy affair, and I lost a lot of fruit. So I realized I didn’t have nearly enough filling for a full on pie, and instead made this into a galette. 


Soupy Sales over here.

Next problem: this filling was so soupy. Another problem? I rolled this crust a bit thin, and as such it had some weak spots. The end result? THIS:

serious pie leakage.

serious pie leakage.

I was pretty worried about it, and kept saying things like “I don’t think this is going to be any good”, but of course, it was fine. The problem I actually had with it had nothing to do with the soupy-ness – it was too sweet. For lots of people, it was probably perfect. In general I find that the pies that are out there in the world are way too sweet for my liking, so I almost always dial back the sugar in a recipe. The sweetness of this pie probably had mass appeal, but it didn’t have mass appeal in this house. And the worst part of all? I don’t remember how much sugar I actually put in. I’d been looking at recipes for full pies, and then adjusted for a galette, so I think I just made a split decision on the spot. I know I’d looked at this recipe, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I just halved the sugar and put in 1/2 cup, thinking it would be fine because both raspberries and nectarines tend to be pretty tart. But I don’t know for sure, so I’m really wasting your time. I’d probably go with 1/4 cup or maybe 1/3 of a cup of sugar in the future…but it would be a gamble, I’m sure. Therefore, the recipe below is mostly guesswork, for which I sincerely apologize. I will try and be better about writing things down as I make them. It’s not in my nature.

Raspberry Nectarine Galette.

  • one single crust pastry dough
  • one pint of raspberries
  • about 6 nectarines, pitted and sliced
  • 1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar, depending on how sweet you like things
  • 1 Tbsp. lemon juice
  • 2 Tbsp. instant tapioca
  • one egg, for egg wash (optional)
  • coarse sugar, for sprinkling on top (optional)

Combine the sliced nectarines, raspberries, lemon juice, sugar, and tapioca. Roll out your crust, being careful not to roll it too thin. Transfer to a parchment lined baking sheet. Spread your filling on top of the pastry. Fold up the edges of the crust to form a rough circle, making sure to seal it up well so that the filling won’t leak out the sides. Brush with the egg wash and sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 400 for 20-30 minutes, or as long as it takes to make it bubbly and golden. Let cool completely before eating.


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