Squash Pie

Squash Pie 

         I'm the first to admit that I'm not a pie maker. I can make pies, good ones, and, since my pie crust recipe came from an experienced and appreciated camp cook who was accustomed to baking many, many delicious pies at a time, I'm able to say I can make a pie with a nice flaky crust (lard, an egg, baking powder, and vinegar being the not-so-secret ingredients). But for me it's a chore - an arduous day consuming chore which I seldom engage in. 

 

But Thanksgiving tickled my guilty bones, and because that one buttercup squash plant I grew this summer produced over a dozen lovely squashes, I began searching the net for squash pie recipes. In the end I relied on my old cookbook (Fanny Farmer, received as a wedding gift 49 years ago) but the net did provide me with a good way to bake the squash so that I could mash the pulp to make the pie.

I got my husband to bring in the biggest squash from the shop where they are stored and he cut it in half on the diagonal for me. I cleaned out the seeds, saved some for next year, put aluminum foil on a cookie sheet, added a bit of water, and baked each half cut side down at 400F. Since I had no idea, other than inserting a knife, how to tell when it was done I ended up taking it out before it was completely cooked. I took a big spoon and scooped out as much as I could then gave the remains to the rams. They seemed quite pleased.

  

Since my scooped squash still seemed a bit to firm to mash I got out my steamer and cooked it some more. During all of this my husband kept asking if he could help. I believe he was rather excited to experience the fruits of this particular labour. "Is it ready to mash yet? I'll mash it for you," he said several times. "No, not yet," was my somewhat grumbling response. This squash preparation was taking a long time!

I only needed 3 cups of squash for the pie and had much more than that so four more servings went to the freezer. After my husband performed his squash mashing task I further puréed it with my mixer, added the spices, milk and eggs and set it aside so I could put together the ingredients for a pecan pie. If I'm gonna make a pie I'm gonna make more than one!

My crust recipe makes 5 or 6 crusts and, since both these pies go topless, I made two crusts, froze two balls and made Rollie's from the rest. Rollie's are pie crust with cinnamon and sugar rolled up and cut like cinnamon buns, a tradition passed down from my mother who also made good but infrequent pies. After baking they tend to disappear quickly, especially when there's a strong admonition regarding the necessity of keeping the pies for Thanksgiving, regardless of pleading eyes and repetitive suggestions. "One piece wouldn't really matter, would it?"

Thanksgiving arrived, the pie's big moment. Would people like it? Is it as good as a pumpkin pie? Three out of four decided to try both pies, so half and half servings with ice cream were set on the table. One guest declined the squash pie giving a rather lengthy explanation concerning a CPR incident and mouth to mouth resuscitation to explain why he could never ever eat any pie that resembled pumpkin. I'll leave the details of the incident to your imagination.

        I'm happy to say it all turned out. The pies were a hit and appreciated over and over. Next day we had another guest who loved squash pie and gave this one a thumbs up. Day three another appreciative squash pie eater arrived along with one decliner who  could never ever eat anything containing cinnamon, going back to his youth and involving a stick of super hot cinnamon gum and a girl he was trying to impress. The gum was so hot it brought tears to his eyes, but he kept smiling and chewing until he had a discreet opportunity to dispose of the gum after which he smiled and pretended to chew. 

 

Interesting isn't it, how unpleasant incidences carve themselves into our memories, sometimes subconsciously, and determine food likes and dislikes throughout our lives. For me it was peas, in jello, served at my grade school cafeteria where the nuns required us to clean our plates. For that matter I had a preconceived notion about squash pie. This was my first. I had that  "never tried it, don't like it" mind set to overcome. So is my first squash pie my last? Not likely. I am already thinking about those two frozen crusts and the remaining squished squash with a certain amount of culinary desire.