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.

Perfect Holiday Dessert: Not-So-Tart Cranberry Tart!

As a person who is in the kitchen several times a day feeding myself and various family members (pets included), I've had some experiments that turned out badly—thinking of you, cabbage torte—and others that came out, well, just so-so. But once in awhile there's that shining star, an attempt that, while it might take a time or two to perfect, is so wonderful that it's worth taking to a potluck dinner or serving to your own guests, where it gets those oohs and aahs that make a cook feel appreciated.

Local organic cranberries.

This last Thanksgiving I'd volunteered to take a dessert to my family's feast. My brother had the basics covered—turkey, mashed potatoes, etc.—and my sister-in-law was whipping up some of her fabulous pumpkin pies and homemade cranberry sauce. I'd thought about apple pie, one of my family's all-time faves, but I had a pound-and-a-half of cranberries from the Sidle family at Eagle Organic Cranberries in Bandon that I'd bought. (You can read a profile here).

Voila! Rusticity at its most tasty.

Since cranberry sauce was taken care of, it occurred to me that a cranberry pie of some sort might be in order, its tartness offsetting some of the richness of the rest of the meal. I decided a rustic tart would be a beautiful and relatively easy solution, plus the "Wow!" factor, if it turned out well—tarts, with their free-form artfulness are, to me, so much more impressive than pies—is so very satisfying.

There was a bit of holding-of-breath involved, since I wasn't sure how much sugar it would take to make it sweet enough but still keep some of the cranberries' lovely tartness, or how much liquid I could add without making it soupy, but the result was stunning. I served it again a few nights later using fewer cranberries, the original quantity being a little too bulky and tweaking the amount of sugar, but I think you'll find your audience, since cooking is performance art, after all, will be applauding.

Not-So-Tart Cranberry Tart

For the crust:
2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. sugar
3/4 c. cold butter or margarine (1 1/2 sticks), cut into pieces
4-5 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:
1 lb. cranberries, preferably locally grown
1 scant c. sugar
2 Tbsp. orange liqueur (triple sec, Cointreau, Grand Marnier, etc.)
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
Zest of 1/2 large orange
Egg white

For the crust, you can use any pie crust recipe you like. I just made one-and-a-half times the amount I use for my single-crust pies, since a tart has no top crust, as such, but the outside edges are folded over the filling. And I make my crust in the food processor. (My mother never forgave this transgression, but some pie is better than no pie, after all.)

Put the flour in the bowl of the food processor with the salt and sugar. Pulse briefly to combine. Add butter or margarine pieces and pulse until the mixture resembles cornmeal. With processor running, dribble in ice water until the dough comes together in one piece (this might take a minute, so dribble slowly and stop as soon as it begins forming) and starts whacking around inside the processor bowl. Wrap in plastic wrap or zip-lock bag and place in the refrigerator to chill for one hour.

Just before the dough finished chilling, place cranberries in a large bowl and add sugar, liqueur, cornstarch and orange zest. Remove dough from refrigerator and place on well-floured surface (I use my mother's pastry cloth from my childhood). Roll out into large round approximately 14-15" in diameter. Transfer to large, parchment-covered baking sheet (I usually fold the dough in half very carefully, transfer it to the sheet and unfold it). Brush the bottom of the dough with a very thin coating of egg white to within 4" of the edge. Place cranberry filling in the middle, keeping it within 3-4" of the edge of the dough. Lift the edges of the dough and fold over on top of filling, pleating it slightly to keep the tart's rounded shape. An option here is to brush the dough with egg white and sprinkle it with sugar to give it a shiny appearance as in the photos above.

Place in oven and bake at 375° for one hour or so until filling is bubbling and crust is golden.

Feed a Craving, Help a Family

Pie is one of my very favorite things, and few people make them better than Julie Richardson (below left) of Portland's Baker & Spice. And this weekend that center of sweetness in Hillsdale is not only celebrating its sixth birthday, but it's throwing a bash for National Pie Day (Jan. 23) by hosting a benefit for Neighborhood House with two days of pie-related fun.

With 25% of all pie sales going to the Emergency Food Box program at Neighborhood House, which feeds up to 700 Portland families a month, look for an apple pie contest at their retail store SweetWares, drawings for prizes that include a pie-a-month for a year or a seat in one of Julie’s pie classes.

And there's the unique opportunity to purchase pie by the slice from an array of their scrumptious pies. Get this list of delights: "Featured pies for the event include Lemon Meringue, Boston Cream, Banana Cream, Butterscotch Cream, Double Crusted Apple, Double Crusted Pear Raspberry, Chocolate Cream and Coconut Cream." So whatever your mouth is craving, they'll have a pie to fill it!

Details: National Pie Day and Sixth Birthday Benefit for the Emergency Food Box program at Neighborhood House. Sat.-Sun., Jan. 22-23, 7 am-3 pm. Baker & Spice, 6330 SW Capitol Hwy. 503-244-7573.

Photos by John Valls.

The Gooseberry Pie Experiment

I said I'd get back to you on the results of the gooseberry pie experiment, and the result was a wonderfully quirky and delicious slice of summer. Like the fireflies of the Eastern US, these little green jewels come and go so quickly that they linger in your memory long after they've left the stage. Now I can't wait for them to come again next year to taste that fleeting flavor once more.

Gooseberry Pie

Crust (makes one 9" crust)
1 1/4 c. unbleached flour
Pinch salt
1 tsp. sugar
8 Tbsp. margarine (1 stick), frozen
2-3 Tbsp. ice water

Filling
4 c. gooseberries
1 c. sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch or other thickener
1/2 tsp. egg white

Put flour, salt and sugar in food processor. Pulse to combine. Add margarine in slices. Pulse till the texture of cornmeal. Turn processor on and add water till it makes a solid ball. Remove, wrap and refrigerate at least 1 hr. Repeat for top crust.

In large bowl, mix gooseberries, sugar and cornstarch. Roll out dough for bottom crust and place in pie plate. Brush egg white over bottom of crust and add filling. Roll out top crust and place on top of filling. Trim and crimp edges. Bake in 450-degree oven for 10 min., turn heat down to 350 degrees and back 45 minutes. Remove from oven and cool.

More Pie?

There are good things and bad things about freelancing. The bad things are mostly about money, or the inconsistency thereof, and having to drum up new business. And if you don't do the latter, the former gets even scarcer. The good things have to do with setting your own schedule and choosing the work you want to do and (mostly) how you want to do it.

Another difficulty is not having a place to meet clients for meetings. An impressive conference room always seems more professional than a kitchen table. So I'll often meet people at a quiet coffee shop or café. One of those in the neighborhood is Random Order on NE Alberta. Their coffee and food are really good, but it's their pies that make me drool.

All handmade on the premises, they do the expected apple, berry and cream pies, but then they'll throw in some unique combinations just to mix it up a bit, like the rhubarb cardamom beauty above. They've recently added spirits and later hours to their lineup, so you can stop in after an evening out for a little cool-down period before heading home.

Details: Random Order Coffeehouse, 1800 NE Alberta. Phone 503-331-1420.

My Pie

Half of making a good pie is having a good pie plate, and I'm here to tell you that you can't beat the old-fashioned Pyrex 10-inch glass plate with its cheery fluted border that just begs you to fill it with something homemade.

The 10-inch size is great for deep dish-type pies and, though you don't have to fill it to the brim (or more), at our house more pie is better pie. Plus the glass allows you to see if the bottom crust is browning nicely, or if (heaven forfend!) it splits and leaks juice. It's also great for making a round of cornbread (perfect for slicing triangles of corny goodness) or chilling a batch of polenta for grilling later.

Look for them at garage and estate sales where you can get one for as little as $1. The 10-inchers are hard to find these days, but you won't be happy with anything smaller. As I said above, more pie is better pie.