HANDFUL OF HEAVEN

Deep frying gives these sweet treats a flaky, tasty crust.

These sweet cherry fried piescould cure a fear of frying.

Food memories are funny. While I remember distinctly the very first time I tasted a fried pie, I find I can’t really recall its flavor, texture or any particulars. More, I remember my brain darn near exploding with the idea that a pie could be fried. And it was with that fuzzy recollection that I began figuring out a sweet cherry fried pie, something I dreamed about, imagined, and just had to try to make.

In my mind’s eye, that hand pie was tangy and had a shatteringly crisp crust. It was showered with confectioners’ sugar and tasted like a carnival funnel cake. The filling was sweet, intense and stuffed inside so winningly that every bite included fruit.

The first three or four or six iterations I produced were just terrible. It’s a miracle I kept going. In the hot oil, the dough would develop holes, and the pies were oily and unpleasant. Fresh cherries were too saucy and wet. The liquid, and then the fruit, escaped the confines of the dough pocket and seeped into the oil, spattering and sputtering.

At this point, I decided to rely on an expert and reached out to Ronni Lundy online. She wrote the lyrical, cultural cookbook, “Victuals” (2016), and tells the stories of her Mountain South and the foods that are central to that region. Among its many recipes I gobbled right up — think sorghum butter, sonkers (pie-cobbler mash-ups) and skillet fried chicken with milk gravy — were her quintessential fried pies. Lundy set me on the path to success when she explained that the essence of her recipe was in the filling made from dried apples, never fresh.

I heard her, but I wasn’t ready to give up on using the summer’s first fresh cherries for my pies. So I cooked sweet cherries, reducing their juices, and added tart, dried Montmorency cherries, for a filling that was jammy and chunky and barely sweetened.

Once that had been conquered, I set out to make the right dough. I combined shortening plus flour plus liquid. To achieve the tang of a funnel cake, I poured in buttermilk instead of the usual ice water. And where I had been using the common pie technique of pinching cold bits of fats into the flour, success came with room-temperature shortening that made for an emulsified, smooth dough — loose, sticky and not one bit like a pie dough. Once chilled for several hours, however, this dough was a joy to work, easy to roll out. It fries up so deliciously, you might want to make a double batch right off the bat.

Because Lundy’s recipe clearly states that lard is an ingredient of some significance in the world of fried pies, I also tested my dough with lard, purchased at my local farmers market from Painted Hand Farm in Pennsylvania. I thought those pies were just a little bit flakier, and, because the lard was of such high quality, there was no porky flavor whatsoever.

Making these hand pies requires no advanced skills. Roll out the dough, stamp out rounds with a wide cookie cutter or bowl. I used a scoop to fill the centers. Resist the urge to add just a little more filling. Use a fork to firmly crimp the edges so the filling won’t leak out in the skillet.

Let’s talk frying. I know there is a serious kitchen condition called Fear of Frying. That’s why I developed this recipe to be shallow-fried. With a 10-inch cast iron skillet and in 2 cups of oil, I can fry three pies at a time. I use a thermometer to check the temperature of the oil almost obsessively, to avoid scorching the pies. Once they are formed, cooking all the pies (in four batches) takes about 12 minutes. Surprisingly easy.

I know the people who experience Fear of Frying also wonder what to do with the frying oil. Here’s what: Cool it completely in the pan. Just let it sit out for a couple of hours. (Eat the pies in the meantime.) Pour the oil through a funnel into a lidded bottle or jar from your recycling, cap it tightly and discard it. The bonus: Your cast-iron pan will be beautifully seasoned.

The filling can be made a few days in advance and the dough can be frozen, then defrosted overnight in the refrigerator, both of which make these pies ready-inno-time, crowd-pleasing, memory-making treats. Bring them to your next cookout.