Springtime Squash

“Making pumpkin pie from scratch, in March”

I try to grow pumpkins every year. “Try,” being the key word here, because I never seem to have very good luck. Even if I put a dozen plants in the ground, I am lucky if I get one beautiful, useable pumpkin. Most likely it’s a combination of factors: not enough water, incorrect soil composition, or lack of mulch. In short, I am a gardener with limited time and pumpkins are high maintenance ladies whose love languages are quality time, acts of service, AND gifts. But I love the tangled-jungle romance of their spiraling tendrils and massive leaves, so I refuse to stop trying. Two years ago, I came outside one evening to find my then five-year-old daughter, Ailey, singing to a pumpkin growing in the garden. Last year I planted an entire pack of white pumpkin seeds, my head filled with the fantasy of beautiful Halloween décor featuring my as-yet-unsprouted pumpkins, as robust and impressive as full moons. And moons I got, if the moon was being viewed from a rather distant planet, that is. Seven softball-sized fairy moons, the bluish-white of ocean foam, as well as one, perfectly round orange pumpkin the size of my smallest son’s head, that grew from a volunteer plant that popped up in a completely random part of the garden.

Unfortunately for my family, I am not much of a decorator, but I did put the pretty pumpkins in and around the fireplace for a while which, although not the autumnal scene of my wildest imagination, was at least within my wheelhouse. And then I proceeded to leave them there far longer than any rational decorator would, but that is besides the point. I kept meaning to do something with them, but the small ones were so pretty I didn’t want to destroy them so I kept putting it off (although I occasionally checked to be sure they were not composting in any way). Then  day rolled around (3/14) and my kids happened to have the day off from school. It didn’t take long for them to agree that the day would be wasted if we didn’t make a pie. I am huge proponent of using what I have before buying anything else, so I gave them the task of deciding what kind of pie to make, based on the ingredients at hand.

They were less than thrilled to consider using the enormous quantity of frozen pears I harvested from our tree and preserved last season. I have come to learn that frozen pears are not useful for much other than smoothies and sauce. Alas, the pears were stored for yet another day. Next, we checked our supply of apples and found it to be insufficient for an entire pie. That left us with just one option: preparing and using the pumpkins we grew last year. My oldest was not interested in this part of the process so he went outside to jump on the trampoline while Ailey and Gryffin assisted me in preparing the pumpkins for baking. Although they DO each have their own Opinel brand kitchen knife, gifted to them by my mother, they only watched while I cut the pumpkins in half. They both set to work brushing oil on the front and back of the pumpkins and carefully placed them on the baking sheet we had covered in parchment paper. We baked the pumpkins for about 45 minutes at 350˚F then took them out to cool. After they were cool enough touch, the children helped me scoop all the pumpkin out of the shells and into the Cuisinart food processor, where they pulsed it into a luxurious, golden puree.  

We found that between the one medium pumpkin and several small, white pumpkins we only got roughly four cups of puree, which is enough to make two pies. We decided to use half and freeze the rest for another day. At this point in the process, my youngest lost interest and went out to join his brother on the trampoline, but seven-year-old daughter, the same cute little sprite I once found singing to a jack-o-lantern song to a pumpkin growing in the garden, decided to stay in and help finish the job. She careful scooped half of the puree into a freezer bag that she labeled and dated in huge letters with a magenta sharpie. We refrigerated the puree we were going to use for the pie that day and set to making a crust, a task that gives me an unusual amount of anxiety because feeling flour on my hands is akin to nails on a chalkboard for me. I absolutely CANNOT stand it. It makes the hair of the back of my arms and neck stand up and puts me into an irrational panic. I can’t even handle a baguette with flour on the outside, which is funny to admit but also giving me a visceral reaction right now, just thinking about it! But I persevered nonetheless, and we made a lovely all-butter pie crust that then required refrigeration for at least half an hour.  

Needless to say, it took us more than one day to complete the pie. Life kept interrupting the process. When I finally did roll out the crust, set it in the pie pan and filled it with rice to blind-bake it, I forgot a step and accidentally baked it without any parchment paper separating the pie crust from the rice. When I pulled it out of the oven, it looked like the rice had baked INTO the crust base so I dumped the entire thing out into the compost and only realized afterwards that if I had just let it cool, I could have poured the rice out easily. Wasting food what should be perfectly good food feels almost as bad as bathing my hands in flour, but my daughter was watching so I (literally) dusted of my hands and we made another crust, this time properly blind-baking it, and FINALLY ended up with a scrumptious, creamy and well-seasoned pumpkin pie just in time to celebrate the spring equinox. And me made sure to save seeds from all of our pumpkins to plant again this year, regardless of how successful they are. There is something so rewarding about using homegrown food, and so much intrinsic value, on many levels, in using food you have successfully preserved.

Jack-o-lantern, Jack-o-lantern,

You are such a pretty sight,

Sitting here at my window,

Looking out at the night.

You were once a pretty pumpkin,

Growing on a sturdy vine,

Now you are my Jack-o-lantern,

Let your little light shine.

-Ailey’s pumpkin song from Waldorf kindergarten