Thanksgiving Is Really And Truly Almost Here; or The Best Pumpkin Pie Ever

I'm going to publish this post every single year until every last one of you make this pumpkin pie. Keep me updated. Originally published November, 2006.

I don't have time for this; I can't blog because the 27 members of my husband's immediate family (no aunts, cousins, grandparents, no, no, just the nuclear family with parents, wives, husbands and offspring) will arrive Thursday and that's only three days away.

So, in between finally finishing the kitchen, cleaning out a jam-packed trunk room so I can fit other, equally unnecessary stuff from all over the house into it, the Salvation Army has seen a spike in donations, and my curtains met water for the very first time.  This is serious cleaning, my little poults and writing is a luxury.

However, I would be seriously remiss if I didn't share a few Thanksgiving secrets — you know, things like brine your turkey (a bucket on the back porch works great this time of year as temperatures plunge nightly, but make sure you weight the lid so the urban wildlife doesn't help themselves to a midnight snack — I kept that particular secret to myself last year), make your own cranberry sauce, etc., etc.  Except that every other food magazine/cookbook/blog tells you to do all of those things too (except the animal part — that's gleaned exclusively from my particular experience).  They don't, however, give you the perfect, the only, the ultimate pumpkin pie recipe to cherish and share.

It's not my recipe — no, no, no, I could never match the sheer subtlety of Marion Cunningham's pie.  Her recipe both lightens and intensifies the pumpkin-ness of the pie, enhancing it with just a featherlight sprinkle of traditional spices.  I don't bake and puree my own pumpkins, never fear, my testy pilgrims — or first colonists who really had the first Thanksgiving thirteen years before those religious fanatics in Massachusetts — you Virginians know who you are.

I use Libby's or actually, an organic canned pumpkin instead.  Cunningham's genius is to add just a mere cup and a half of that canned pumpkin as opposed to the full 15 ounces the recipe on the back of the 15 ounce can calls for (hmmm . . . ).  You have about half-a-cup leftover, and so far I've found no use at all for it so you just throw it away.  What!  Yes, I still shudder and do it every Thanksgiving anyway.

Buy a pie from the store and compare this year, and you'll convert, like me, forever:

Marion Cunningham's Pumpkin Pie
(Invaluable Tip: buy fresh spices every year for this pie and throw the old ones out, dammit, right this minute, before you even contemplate turning your oven on)

For the filling:
1 1/2 c. canned pumpkin
2/3 c. sugar
1 1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ginger
1/4 t. cloves
1 1/2 c. evaporated milk
2 eggs lightly beaten
1/2 t. table salt

For the pie crust: here's a link to the only recipe for pie dough you need by Christopher Kimball of Cook's Illustrated.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Make dough according to instructions. Roll dough into a 12-inch round on a floured surface and then transfer (ha!) to a 9-inch pie pan (not deep-dish).  Trim edges, allowing a 1/2-inch overhang, then fold and crimp.  Fill and bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 degrees and continue baking until filling is just set (as Cunningham reminds us, pumpkin pie is a custard), 30 to 40 minutes.  Cool before serving. May be made two days ahead (that would be today).

Comments

[BHW]

Maybe throw that 1/2 cup pumpkin into some muffins? You could probably freeze it and save it for later.

[Stella]

So true, the spices used in one year's pie certainly shouldn't be used on the next. I firmly believe that to be the cause of most pie mediocrity.

[Paige Goodpasture]

I am making this delicious pie again this year, Brandon! It is the best -- thanks so much for keeping it available for all of us. And I just threw out my old spices!