Because Mika said any self-respecting pumpkin pie starts with real pumpkin, I went to the overcrowded and overstocked supermarket two full days before the holiday in search of the small cooking pumpkins required to get my pie rolling right. That’s when I discovered that fresh pumpkin pie must be a kind of a urban myth in these parts, because after the six-month Halloween selling season, all those precious little pumpkins are all sold out or out back in the trash. So we started with this, Georgia’s mummy pumpkin, which was still sitting around looking cute and useless, and set out to give it new life as a savory, flavory dessert.
We meticulously followed Denise’s directions (who wouldn’t?) on how to cook and puree the flesh, ending up with a rather dubious-looking glop.
Emboldened by the transformative potential of this adventure, we took Chris’ advice and approached a homemade crust with the assurance of ease.
I said neither do I, but the Pie Lady said the spices make up for it. Once mixed and assembled, our ambition was quite nearly realized. Like Bella suggested we dusted the top with a dash of nutmeg to be sure.
All done and scrumptious, don’t you think?
Then, imbued with the Zen spirit of why the hell not, we also whipped up Phyllis and Ted’s idea of a pretty pumpkin cheesecake. And since the blogging of it has now taken nearly long as the baking of it, I’d be most thankful if you’d take our word for it.
Originally posted Nov. 21, 2007