whoopie pie is a Pennsylvania Dutch tradition. The staid Amish women would put it in their husbands' lunch boxes, or so the story goes, and when their husbands opened the lunch box, they would shout "Whoopie!" Well, maybe. I come from Pennsylvania Dutch stock myself. As the Wikipedia article on "Pennsylvania Dutch" will tell you, you don't have to be from Pennsylvania to be Pennsylvania Dutch--you can be from northern Indiana, too, as I am. (You're not Dutch either; "Dutch" is a corruption of "Deutsch.") We did not have whoopie pies, although we did have Shoo Fly pies, as well as Old-Fashioned Cream pies (not a cream pie at all--more like a heavy, very sweet custard). Also, I never heard my grandfather say "Whoopie!" I might have said "whoopie" when I ate this "pie," which is also known as a "gob." I don't like to call it a gob. Amish women used to call it a hucklebuck, which sounds more like something my grandpa would have said, but I never heard of that either.
I don't know what took me so long to get around to making this. I think I was put off by the fake marshallow cream because I really don't like marshmallow and figured I wouldn't want to make something that resembled it. I was wrong on that count, although my "marshmallow" didn't fluff up the way it's supposed to. But more about that later.
The cake was simplicity itself. But here's a sad picture.
Then the frosting. I swear I'm getting worse at making buttercream since I found out it was hard. Before I knew how tricky and unpredictable it was considered to be, my buttercreams turned out fine. A friend of mine really jinxed me when she asked me if I'd give her a little tutorial on buttercreams. I haven't made a decent one since. The idea with this "marshmallow" is to make a meringue, then a "finishing cream," and then mix then together.
Suffice it to say that the buttercream did not look like marshmallow cream, and I did not get to "step back on my heels and congratulate myself on making a perfect buttercream," which I'd been looking forward to. I was even thinking of clicking my heels together as I congratulated myself.
Oh, by the way, I do remember somewhat snobbily declaring that Fudgy Pudgy brownies did not pass my Presidential dessert name test. And yet here I am, crazy about the name Whoopie Pie. Maybe it's just in my genes. Assuming that I ever figure out how to make buttercream again, I'd happily serve it to the President. And, who knows, he might just take one look at it, smile, and say, "Whoopie"!
Sarah: "Wonderful! The creamy center is amazing--this is what marshmallows should taste like."
James: "Tasty. Light and fluffy." [When I offered Sarah the last two pies to take home, James enthusiastically accepted].
Jim: "The crust has a kind of chewiness that I like, and the cookie thing has a nice chocolate flavor. The cream is not overwhelming, but it's really very good."