t’s
been scientifically proven that one can live for weeks on a diet of
only pumpkin pie. The study, heretofore unpublished, was conducted
about 10 years ago. I was the lead researcher, as well as the
primary subject/guinea pig. I was also the lab-tech, along with my
two business partners.
Leading into our first post-college autumn,
some friends and I started a pumpkin pie business. The plan was to
save up enough money to go to Fiji.
We never made it even close to Fiji. But we
did make a lot of really good pumpkin pies, many of which we sold.
Amid the bounty of rejected and prototype pies, I made my
scientific discovery. It hit me one afternoon that I couldn’t
remember the last time I’d eaten anything but pumpkin pie.
When I say pumpkin pie, what I really mean
is winter squash pie – winter squash being the general
category of which pumpkin is a member. Although pumpkins and squash
(not including spaghetti squash) are virtually interchangeable in
the context of pie, the non-pumpkin squashes tend to be sweeter and
often starchier.
There are an astounding number of squash
varieties to experiment with. Red kuri, carnival, sunshine and
buttercup squashes, to name a few, make pies that eat like a meal.
More pedestrian varieties like acorn or butternut can make a good
pie, but who cares? In the true pumpkin category, the winter luxury
variety comes highly recommended. But to be honest, I’m not
sure I’ve ever even made a pumpkin pie with real pumpkin.
With an open mind you can stray far from
the well-worn path of pumpkin pie convention. Mom’s pumpkin
pie is, of course, a fabulous symphony of flavors, but that
doesn’t mean you always have to add cinnamon, nutmeg and
mace. Perhaps one or all will fit into
|
the motif of your pie of the day, perhaps
not.
Last week, for example, I cut open a blue
hubbard squash, scraped out the seeds, laid it face down on a
baking pan with a quarter-inch of water in it, and baked at 350
degrees until it was pudding-soft, then removed it and let it cool.
While the squash baked, I took out a deer
shoulder to thaw and rehydrated some dried morels in chicken stock.
Then I made two crusts – an art unto itself that needs its
own column to explain, so in the meantime you should consult your
favorite cookbook. I put my two crusts into two pie pans.
For my first pie, I put two cups of blue
hubbard flesh in a food processor. Since I had only three eggs, I
decided to use two of them and save the third for my next pie.
Eggs, like many pumpkin pie ingredients, are flexible. More eggs
make it custardy, fewer make it earthier.
Then I added a token amount of sugar, maybe
a
|
quarter cup. In other pies I’ve used
maple syrup, but not today. The James Beard recipe that I was
occasionally glancing at (which, incidentally, called for six
eggs!) suggested using heavy cream, which I remember using back in
the day. But since I didn’t have any, I used high-fat Greek
Style yogurt and the remainder of a can of coconut milk I opened
the other day. Then I added a little piece of minced ginger and
whizzed it up. But it wouldn’t whiz because the squash was
too dense. So I gave a nice pour from my coffee cup (El Salvadoran
extra-dark with milk and sugar), which added the penetrating
lubricant I needed to whip that pie filling to a smooth
consistency. It tasted great, so I gave it no further modifications
(nothing wrong with modifying here, though). I poured it into my
pie crust, and for kicks I tossed in a handful of chocolate chips.
While it was baking at 350 degrees, I began
my next pie by browning some deer shoulder chunks in oil. Whenever
it started to stick, I added water (or vinegar or wine) before it
started to smoke, stirring often. When it was nicely browned, I put
about an inch of water in the pan and cooked with the cover on
until that water was gone. Then I added some chopped bacon, onion,
carrot, butter, nutmeg, sage, rosemary, thyme, salt, pepper and the
morels. When everything was nicely cooked I added some chopped
garlic, stirred it together, and poured it into crust #2. Then I
put a cup of cooked squash into the food processor with salt,
pepper and chopped garlic. Again, too thick to blend, so I added
vinegar from a jar of pickled peppers, which loosened everything
nicely and added good tang. I scooped this savory squash puree upon
the savory items in my crust, and put it in the oven to bake,
simultaneously removing my sweet pie, which I assessed was done
based on the browned crust and solid feeling I got when I pressed
on the pie’s center.
Yum. Perhaps now you believe I can live on
pumpkin pie. n
|