One (Big) Squash + Two Pie Recipes = Yum!

It just so happened that Thanksgiving this year coincided with the cooking of a giant—I am not exaggerating, it was a more-than-twenty-pounder prior to slaughter—Musquée de Provence squash. Though I fully intended to bake it at some point, it provided a lovely front porch decoration during Halloween with its bronzed, almost metallic-looking sheen, dramatic striated ribs and sculptured stem.

I'm a huge fan of buying whole squash, whether Hubbard or Sibley or the Northwest's own Lower Salmon River variety. And size is no deterrent (see above). All I needed was a sharp chef's knife and a sturdy cutting board—remember, these monsters are hollow inside, so you can insert the knife at the stem, push it all the way through the bottom, then with steady pressure push the knife down. I generally slice them into halves to clean them, then section them for roasting. (In a 400-degree oven the slices soften like butter, usually within an hour.)

The unroasted flesh of Cucurbita moschata (the Latin name of this squash; also called "Potiron Bronze de Montlhery"…ooh la la!) is quite sweet, and it has a lighter texture than its cousins the acorn and butternut squashes, but with a more intense flavor than either of those, and a gorgeous, red-orange color. Roasted, it maintains its sweetness and its color, which works well with a lime-inflected soup and is perfectly suited for desserts like pie or cheesecake.

I used about a quarter of the roasted squash for a soup, then froze the rest in three zip-lock freezer bags, knowing I'd pull out two of them for pies at Thanksgiving. I'd cobbled together a recipe from researching squash pies in books and online, but found that most squash pie recipes call for puréed pumpkin or butternut. The Musquée's flesh is much more moist, so I knew I needed to cut back on any added liquid.

The second recipe I tried was from a friend who is a professional baker here in Portland, a squash pie that came from a French chef she'd worked with who hated American food. "Hilariously enough," she said, "it's a variation on the recipe from the Libby's can!"

The recipes were almost identical, with only a couple of minor variations, and for the Musquée squash I think the recipe below works well. I can't wait to try it on other kinds of squash—helloooo Lower Salmon River, I'm talkin' to you—and taste the differences between them. And I'm pretty darn sure my family won't mind me using them as testers in the process.

Squash (Pumpkin) Pie

For the crust:
1 unbaked pie crust in a 9" pie pan (recipe here)
Egg white

For the filling:
3 c. roasted Musquée de Provence squash
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. granulated sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. ginger
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1 c. heavy cream or whole milk

Preheat oven to 350°.

Purée squash in food processor until smooth. Pour into large mixing bowl. Add remaining ingredients and stir to combine.

Brush the bottom of the crust with a thin layer of egg white (I use my hands for this so I can feel if there are dry spots.) Pour squash mixture into the crust. Bake 1 hour. Test for doneness by inserting a sharp knife. If it doesn't come out clean, reduce heat to 300° and continue baking until set.

A Pot of Soup Will Carry Us Through

I don't know about you, but when I get stressed I crave comfort. And believe me, this election has me more than a little freaked out. Without getting all screamy about the politics of the race or the possibility that we could have a madman in the White House with the nuclear codes…um…uh…okay, stay on track…I'm planning on being glued to the coverage on election night with a big pot of soup on the stove and lots of Dave's awesome homemade sourdough on hand for sopping.

A musquée de Provence squash is made for soup.

Hey, it beats curling up in a ball in bed with the covers over my head and pretending it's all been a bad dream, right?

Truthfully, I'm looking forward to shouting and screaming and jumping up and down when the country votes to elect our first woman president. But since we still need to eat, here's a recipe for a curried squash soup that will calm and comfort, especially if you have a big loaf of artisan bread standing by for some sopping.

Election Night Curried Squash Soup

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 onion, roughly chopped
3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
2 tsp. curry powder
1 tsp.-1 Tbsp. harissa, depending on your heat tolerance, or 1/8 tsp. cayenne
1 13 1/2 oz. can coconut milk
2-4 c. water or chicken or vegetable stock (or a combination of the two)
4 c. roasted squash, cut in 1" cubes
1 kaffir lime leaf (optional)
Zest of 1/2 lime
Juice of 1/2 lime

In a large soup pot, heat oil until it shimmers. Add onion and sauté over medium heat until tender. Add garlic and heat until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add curry powder and sauté for 1 minute. Add harissa, coconut milk, water and/or stock, squash, lime leaf, lime zest and juice. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove lime leaf and discard. Purée with immersion blender until smooth. (This can also be done in batches in a blender or food processor, but cool it slightly first or it'll explode all over the kitchen.)

Move Over, Ice Cream: Squash Sorbet Steals the Spotlight

The Portland food boom continues: we're already famous for our beverages like beer, coffee, tea and wine—OK, sodas and drinking vinegars, too—our chefs, restaurants and food carts are second to none, and there seems to be a recent explosion of nouveau ice cream parlors out-weirding each other with crazy (and sometimes very unappealing-sounding) flavors like bone marrow, avocado, blood pudding and, because it is Portland, after all, bacon.

When I saw squash ice cream on the roster at a recent Squash Party—hosted by Lane Selman and Alex Stone of the Culinary Breeding Network to taste new and unusual varieties of cucurbits—you could say I was a bit skeptical. But then two things convinced me to give it a chance: that it was concocted by Tim Wastell of Firehouse restaurant, a guy as dedicated to field-to-table dining as anyone in the city, and that it was made from one of Ayers Creek Farm's astonishing and deeply flavorful Musquée de Provence squashes (above left).

Creamy, sweet and luscious, it was all I could ask from an ice cream, particularly since it was served on a pumpkin seed sablé, a type of French biscuit that was made just for the tasting by Linda Colwell. I came home and told Dave about it, thinking he might be up for attempting a sorbet, since due to his lactose-intolerance he's been whipping up some mighty fine examples in his ice cream maker. We also happened to have one of those same Musquée pumpkins that I'd picked up from the market the week before, and I had a feeling it might just match well with the cranberry tart I was planning on taking to Thanksgiving dinner.

Right on all counts—the rich sweetness of the sorbet melded perfectly with the tart cranberry-orange of the tart—we're now intent on doing some further experimenting in the less-traveled roads of sorbet-making. I'll keep you posted.

Musquée de Provence Squash Sorbet

2 lbs. Musquée de Provence squash or other sweet-fleshed squash

1 1/4 c. simple syrup

1/4 c. orange juice

1 tbsp. lemon juice

To make the squash puree:

Preheat oven to 400°.

Cut squash in half and scoop out seeds. Cut the squash into 1/2” slices and place on a parchment-lined baking tray. Place in oven and bake until the squash is fork tender, about an hour. Remove the squash from the oven and set aside to cool. 

Once squash is cool, scoop out the flesh from the skin and purée in a food processor.

To make the simple syrup:

While the squash is baking, in a medium saucepan combine 1 1/2 c. sugar and 1 1/2 c. water. Heat briefly over low heat, stirring until sugar dissolves completely. Set aside to cool.

To make the sorbet:

In a blender, blend 2 cups of squash purée with simple syrup, lemon and orange juices until smooth. Freeze in an ice cream machine according to manufacturer's instructions. Store in the freezer.

Enlightenment in a Squash

People are so self-involved. They think that ball games in faraway cities are won or lost by whether they put on their team hat back-to-front or front-to-back. Or if they wear their great-aunt Neddra's cameo necklace to their next internet date they'll be more likely to find their ideal mate. Or, like me (Self-involved? A blogger?), all I had to do was admit, at long last and after much kicking and screaming, that it's fall-going-on-winter. Then the sun could come out and we could have a few precious days of sunshine.

The come-to-Jesus, can't-deny-it-any-longer moment came when I was at my local grocery store and saw a pumpkin display out front. (It may also have been helped along by the jeans, boots and two layers of coats I was wearing.) Most of the squash were the large orange orbs that beg to be carved into humorous lanterns…I particularly like the ones that looks like they're throwing up seeds and pumpkin guts…but there was one flattened, bronze beauty that called my name, a Musquee de Provence weighing around ten pounds or so.

It was begging to be baked and made into fall's perfect meal, a squash soup. And that's what I told the woman ahead of me at the checkstand when I heaved it onto the conveyor belt and she asked what I was planning on doing with it. Once home, I scooped out the pulp (after making my son look at "the vomiting pumpkin!" and getting an eyeroll for my trouble), chopped it into wedges and baked it.

I'd made a Thai-inflected coconut squash soup before, so something more savory seemed in order this time. Earlier I'd noticed my neighbor's sage plant looked like it wouldn't miss a few leaves, so those went into the pot along with an onion, some garlic and chicken stock. There were some piquillo peppers sitting in the fridge that would make a nice drizzle on the top, so while the soup cooked I made a little sauce with those.

Ladled into bowls with some of Dave's bread, these made a perfect fall dinner. And you know what? Make of it what you will, but the next day the sun came out.

Luscious Squash Soup with Roasted Piquillo Pepper Purée

For the soup:
8 c. baked winter squash (see recipe, below)
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, shopped
A dozen fresh sage leaves
4 c. chicken stock
Salt and pepper to taste

For the pepper purée:
1 c. roasted piquillo peppers (or other roasted red pepper)
1 Tbsp. olive oil (or the oil from the jar of piquillo peppers)
2 cloves garlic
1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes or 1small dried red pepper
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 400°. For a large squash or pumpkin, halve the squash and scoop out the seeds and pulp. Slice into wedges and place on aluminum foil on large baking sheet. Bake for approx. 1 hr. or until a fork can easily penetrate the flesh. Separate the flesh from the skin and place in bowl. Set aside.

Heat oil in large soup pot on stove. Sauté onion and garlic till translucent. Add 8 sage leaves, then the squash and stock. Stir to combine, then, using immersion blender (or working in batches with processor or blender), blend until smooth. Bring just to a boil, reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook for 30 minutes or more. If desired, briefly fry extra sage leaves in hot oil for garnish.

For the pepper sauce, place all ingredients in blender and blend until smooth. Drizzle over soup and serve more alongside.