Pumpkin pie for people who hate pumpkin pie

Life updates, cooking at home in England & my father's bottomless pit of a stomach

Oct 15, 2023

Hello. Welcome to my newsletter! I’m Sarah, and having recently quit my job, I can now finally focus on being a full-time cook and food writer. Now the adventure begins…

About me

My culinary journey began in my family's London kitchen. There, at the age of 5, I became my mother's 'little sous chef' assisting with the preparation for endless dinner parties and family celebrations. Pitting dates, frying bacon, peeling apples, grinding spices, adding a little of this, a pinch of that, over the years I learned the art of instinctive cooking. Of course, now that I want to share my recipes increased rigor is definitely required.

Every Sunday you will receive a free weekly newsletter. You can expect not only plenty of recipes that have been tested and retested, but also:

notes on seasonal produce and ingredients
conversations with foodie friends
restaurant recommendations
stories from our family kitchen
our very own Cocktail Club – dirty martini anyone?
…and plenty more!

“I don’t like pumpkin pie,” insisted Dad.

It’s early Sunday morning and my husband, mother and father are reading newspapers around the kitchen island whilst sipping on frothy cappuccinos. The kitchen is warm and smells of espresso and burnt toast.

Dad is savoring his usual breakfast - a bowl of porridge with chia seeds and blackberries so plump and juicy they glisten like jewels.

“I just don’t like the texture…”

In one sweeping motion he expertly manoeuvers the porridge onto a battered shell-shaped spoon and then straight into his mouth.

“...the filling reminds me of baby food and is always too sweet. Plus the pastry is always too soggy.”

Dad plunges back into the steaming bowl dividing a particularly plump berry in half. The black juice leaks and swirls into the creamy pool of oats and amber honeycomb. I want to dive in.

Separated by an ocean

I am an only child. I have grandparents, countless cousins, second cousins, aunties and uncles, great aunties, and relatives whose precise kinship eludes me. However, our little unit has always been just the three of us. Mum, Dad and me.

Our bond has always been very deep. I do believe if I had the option to choose anyone in the world to be my parents, I would always, without hesitation, select mine.

For two years my family and I were separated by an ocean.

I married a man my parents had never met. We were supposed to fly home. We were supposed to surprise my parents with the news of our engagement.

All flights canceled. Everything, canceled.

A global pandemic halted the natural rhythm of what life was supposed to be. Suddenly, I was 30, married and 5000 miles away from everything I knew. Homesickness hit like a ton of bricks. The experience was so acute that it made me want to curl up in bed and draw the curtains on life.

True homesickness is loss that has nowhere to go.

An emotional purgatory.

A displacement.

Seasons came and went. Birth and death in the same breath. Changes that occurred were clumsily recounted on the phone by family. Time differences can make the present feel like an afterthought.

Joyfully, we now spend every autumn and winter with my family in England. We don’t know what the future will hold, but for now, we are enjoying being together. As for the trio? We’ve expanded. Like a missing puzzle piece, my American husband has completed our unit. To my dad, he is now ‘son’.

Right then, enough melancholy for one newsletter, I’m supposed to be writing about pumpkin pie for goodness sake. Back to business.

An insatiable appetite and a critic’s stare

“Your father will eat anything except raw oysters and aubergine.’’ says Mum, straightening out the Style section and rolling her eyes.

“And apparently pumpkin pie,’’ I mutter.

It’s true. My father has a remarkably adventurous palette and on some occasions a seemingly bottomless pit of a stomach.

Last Friday, he effortlessly consumed two whisky sours and a sip of my dirty martini, then as a pre-dinner snack polished off several helpings of smoked salmon with cream cheese on rye bread. This was followed by my mum's succulent lamb meatballs bathed in date molasses served with pomegranate saffron couscous. And for dessert? A slice of sticky ginger cake topped with dollops of cushiony whipped cream.

A couple of hours later I heard a rustling in the kitchen and caught Dad red- handed clutching a slice of sourdough generously slathered with thick Guernsey butter and drizzled with walnut honey. Later in the evening, to my astonishment, out popped a bag of pick ‘n’ mix sweets. You know, the old-fashioned pink and white striped paper bags containing carefully selected delights such as: liquorice discs, love hearts, rhubarb and custard sours and prawn-shaped marshmallows, all down the hatch.

“What?’’ he responded as if reading my mind. “It’s the weekend!”

To be fair, with the exception of the pick ‘n’ mix, Dad is really quite discerning when it comes to good food. On test kitchen days he always has a few notes to share. However, it's worth noting that compliments are sparingly given and only when absolutely deserved. Northerners don’t mince their words.

Dunking a spoon into a bubbling sauce or stew, testing a fallen crumb from a batch of cookies, sampling whipped chocolate ganache from the bowl, more often than not, the feedback goes something like this: “Nearly Sarah, but not quite…” Infuriatingly, his critiques are nearly always correct.

It’s unsurprising then that my next question represented a challenge for us both:

“What if I could develop a recipe for pumpkin pie that you will not only like, but love?’’

Not a morsel of porridge remained. The black liquor of the berries, warm golden milk and gummy oats had disappeared leaving a shiny clean bowl.

“If you can do that, I will eat my hat,” Dad replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Now there’s a challenge!

A slice each. Guess which slice is Dad’s?

Developing the perfect recipe

‘The problem with pumpkin pie’, I typed into google at 3am (don’t judge me). 21,800,000 results appeared. I had obviously opened a can of worms.

One reddit-er (is that what you call them?) passionately exclaimed, ‘The puree stuff is disgusting. Vegetables don’t belong in dessert pies.’

Problem #1 The Filling

After further research it seemed the main quibble was the canned puree. I don’t often tend to listen to the chronically online community, but on this occasion they were right. I think if you are going to make a really good pumpkin pie you need to use fresh pumpkin. As in, make the pumpkin puree yourself. It doesn’t take long and the results are very satisfying (see below for the simplest method ever).

Problem #2 The Texture

Let’s discuss. At Thanksgiving buffets I've had more than my fair share of semi- curdled pumpkin pies - the center, thick, like wet soil. No good. Certainly no good for the pumpkin pie averse like Dad. In fact, no good for anyone.

Fear not! You can be safe in the knowledge that our pumpkin pie (yes, this pie is ours), is filled with a lovely velvet-like custard. No lumps, and nothing resembling wet soil. The texture is similar to that of an egg custard tart. When refrigerated overnight (and you really should do this so the flavor can develop) the top glistens so much you can see your own reflection. Oh hello, beautiful!

Problem #3 Soggy lifeless pastry

Soggy isn’t exactly a compliment for a cook. Have you ever heard someone say ‘Wow these brussel sprouts are lovely and soggy, you simply must give me the recipe!’ No, of course you haven’t.

So what is to be done about the pastry? I know you are all organized, patient, motivated cooks who would be able to tackle pastry without drama or perspiration, but I can't be bothered, at least not right now. So, for this recipe, we can all secretly breathe a sigh of relief because I've created an easy cookie crust consisting of oats and pistachios, all whizzed in the food processor for extra convenience. This oatmeal cookie crust is good enough to eat all by itself, but resist if you can, for this makes a delicious vessel for the pumpkin smooth-as-butter custard filling.

Housekeeping

Lastly, you will see an addition of ras el hanout, the lovely warm North African spice blend. This addition exists not because my Mother stock piled it during the pandemic, but rather, the blend of cumin, coriander, paprika, cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, chili, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, turmeric, black pepper, fenugreek (and sometimes rose petals), is far superior to the American invention of ‘pumpkin spice’.

For the pedantically inclined, you will notice I've added extra cinnamon and nutmeg. Yes, I’m aware ras el hanout already includes cinnamon and nutmeg, but I've added more because I love the strong presence of these warming spices in a pumpkin pie. If any of this upsets you, omit and move on.

Credit

For the recipe and method I’ve taken direct inspiration from the wonderful pastry chef Nicola Lamb, here on Substack. Nicola goes into great detail about recipe development as well as providing a selection of interesting techniques. Nicola is far more patient and informative on the subject of tarts and pies than I could ever hope to be. I recommend that you subscribe to Kitchen Projects newsletter and click here for a wonderful maple pumpkin tart recipe.

Recipe

Pistachio & Oat Cookie Crust

85g/approx.1 cup oats

40g/approx. approx. ⅓ cup all-purpose/plain flour

45g/approx. ¼ cup light brown sugar

40g/approx. ¼ cup pistachios

½ tsp ground cinnamon

60g/approx. 4 tbsp salted butter, cubed

Cookie Crust Method

Heat the oven to 180°C fan.

In the bowl of a food processor place the oats, pistachios, cinnamon, flour, and brown sugar. Pulse until the oats & nuts are coarsely chopped then add the melted butter and pulse for a few more seconds.

Transfer the mixture into a 9-inch fluted tart/pie tin with a removable base. Press the crumbs evenly into the bottom and up the sides of the tin.

Tip - For a smooth base and sides use a measuring cup to gently even out the cookie crust.

Place the pie tin on a baking sheet and bake for approx. 8-10 mins or until the crust is light golden brown.

Extra Tip - When you remove the crust from the oven you might find that the crust has started to rise and slightly bubble, don’t be alarmed. Again, use your trusty measuring cup to gently smooth the surface.

Pumpkin Puree

One pumpkin, halved

Instructions:

1. Keep your oven at 180°C fan.

2. Wash the pumpkin.

3. Cut it in half vertically.

4. Using a spoon remove the seeds and stringy bits.

5. Place the pumpkin halves cut-side down on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or foil.

6. Roast in the oven for approx. 40-45 minutes until the flesh is tender and the skin is the color of light caramel.

7. Allow to cool briefly then either peel away the skin or scrape the flesh from the inside.

8. Blend the flesh in a food processor or blender until smooth.

9. Strain the puree once or twice.

Pumpkin Custard Filling

75g egg yolks (approx. 4 egg yolks based on each weighing approx.18g)

175g/ approx. ¾ cup pumpkin puree

175ml/6 fl oz double/heavy cream (of this, keep back 35ml/2tbsp + 1tsp)

90g/approx. ½ cup caster sugar

40g/2 tbsp + 2 tsp maple syrup

½ tsp nutmeg

½ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp ras el hanout (optional, but wonderful)

¼ tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla paste

Please note: For the custard, you will see that 35ml of double cream is initially used as part of the cold mixture, the rest you will heat up together with sugar to complete the filling.

Method

Preheat the oven to 125°C fan

In a medium/large mixing bowl whisk together the homemade pumpkin puree, egg yolks, double cream (35 ml), maple syrup, vanilla paste, spices and salt, then set aside.

Place a small/medium saucepan on low heat then add the double cream (140ml) and sugar. Warm for 6-7 minutes whisking/stirring the mixture continuously until thickened and very slightly foamy. Allow to cool for a few minutes.

Very slowly pour the warm mixture, dribble by dribble into the pumpkin custard filling, whisking (using a hand whisk) as you go. Do not add all at once as the warm cream might curdle the yolks.

Fun fact: When tempering eggs, the goal is to gently warm the proteins found in the egg yolks and/or whites, thus preventing the formation of large lumps. This technique entails slowly adding hot liquid, rather than pouring it all at once, and vigorously whisking until a smooth and velvety texture is achieved.

Now, leaving the pie tin on the baking sheet, pour the pumpkin mixture into the crust and cook for 30-35 minutes. Turn the tin at around the 20-25 minute mark to ensure an even bake. When ready, the custard may have a very gentle wobble in the middle.

Refrigerate the pie overnight. I know, how cruel! Doing this, however, intensifies the flavor and helps the custard set. You will also find that refrigeration produces a lovely natural shine/glaze.

A note on ovens

Depending on your specific oven, the pie may take up to another 10 minutes to cook. Once you have turned the tin, keep checking the pie every 5 minutes or so. Be warned, the filling turns from liquid to solid very quickly at the last stage of cooking.

A note on serving

I have chosen to decorate my pumpkin pie with toasted Swiss meringue for which there are plenty of fine recipes online. Of course, if this all seems like too much of a faff, simply serve with a dollop of whipped cream, or mascarpone. Lovely!

Wait, did Dad love the pie?

I realize I didn’t give you an update. Yes, he did! After four slices (not all at once) I think he can now be officially declared a pumpkin pie convert. Now let’s find that hat he promised to eat!