I never was a pumpkin pie gal. At Thanksgiving, I always stuck to apple pie or, better, my Grammie's chocolate pudding pie. All of that changed a few years ago when I made a pumpkin pie for the first time, using butternut squash and a recipe in Baking Illustrated. While their test kitchen recommends sticking with canned pumpkin for ease, it seriously only adds five minutes of work and a little extra oven time—and it adds unbeatable flavor and texture.
For the first pie this season, I used a little pie pumpkin. But the pumpkins on the farm went fast, so for the next pie, I had my pick of squash of all wintry colors and knobby shapes. I tested out a few; it was easy to decide on potimarron for its size, super-smooth purée, and sweetness. One potimarron, peeled and gutted, is just about sixteen ounces, the exact weight of squash needed, and its sugariness means I can drop the added brown sugar by half.
Mixed with the usual spices and cooked briefly over the stove with cream and milk (fresh and raw, yes), then poured in a buttery, prebaked shell, it was a very good pie.
But then we butchered the pigs, and besides all the meat, we got a handful of pounds of leaf fat, a delicate and prized fat that lies just behind the pig's kidneys and renders into a snowy white fat that's apparently magical for pies. We spent a few afternoons rendering the fat over super-low heat—the liquid that seeps out cools into a solid that is actually, shockingly pure white. After a few trial runs, I decided that just one ounce of leaf fat mixed with three ounces of butter added a melt-in-your mouth flakiness to the crust that plain butter just doesn't, but avoids any unwanted lardy taste (which I admit I'm overly sensitive to). This week, I finally made the crust—the pinnacle of crusts, with that sought-after crisp and flake and melt, a bit of sweetness, zero sogginess under the custard. And I really think it's mostly because of that one ounce of lard.
Probably the biggest turning point in the pumpkin pie season was this New York Times article, though. It's a dangerous article—I may never be satisfied with plain pumpkin pie again after stealing its secret. Instead of relying on the typical spice suspects, like cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg, it calls on the warm and savory blend of garam masala. Garam masala does include those basic spices, but also adds cardamom, cumin, and fennel.
When I finished this week's pie, I felt like I'd graduated. I'd dealt with grainy custard (no more baking in toaster ovens), burnt crust (use aluminum foil!), weird crust (I botched the butter ratio), forgetting the eggs (yes, I did pull the pie out of the oven to add them in), and probably other disasters. But this one, this one, was a perfect pumpkin pie.
* * *
Pie crust
From Ratio by Michael Ruhlman, this crust relies on an easy-to-remember ratio of flour-butter-water: 3-2-1-PIE! Use a scale to measure out the ingredients--easier than it sounds, and you won't have to wash out any measuring cups.
6 ounces flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
4 ounces cold fat (I prefer 3 oz butter, 1 oz leaf fat)
2-3 ounces cold water
Pumpkin custard
Adapted from Baking Illustrated and the New York Times recipe for Garam Masala Pumpkin Tart.
16 ounces potimarron squash, peeled, gutted, and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/2-2/3 cup brown sugar
1-inch piece of ginger, grated fine
1 1/2 teaspoon garam masala
2/3 cup cream
2/3 cup whole milk
4 eggs
I love using my hands when I make pie dough—it seems to be so important to be able to feel the consistency and texture of the dough. It will tell you all! Mix the flour, salt, sugar, and fat with your fingers, rubbing it all together until the mixture is sandy and has lumps of fat no bigger than a pea. Add the water slowly; use your fingers to press the dough together. When the dough comes together, stop. Don't overmix it. Shape the dough into a disc, wrap it in plastic, and refrigerate for an hour.
When the dough is thoroughly chilled, roll it out. I use a marble pastry slab or a silicon baking mat and plenty of flour, flipping the crust over frequently to make sure it's not sticking and rolling very slowly and not too firmly. If it cracks, it is not a big deal. At all. Just patch it back together.
When the pie dough is rolled large enough to cover the pie pan and hang an inch or so over the edge all around, transfer it to the pan. You can do this by folding the crust lightly into quarters, placing the parcel in the pan, and carefully unfolding it; or—this is truly life changing—lift the silicon mat, flip it over the pie pan, and slowly peel back the silicon. Make your pretty pie crust edges, cover the pan with plastic wrap, and put it in the fridge for about an hour, then freeze for 10-15 minutes.
All the "cold" terms here are key. Keep the fat chilled and it will make a flaky crust. Let the fat melt and it just won't be the same.
While the pie crust is chilling, preheat the oven to 375. Put the squash in a rimmed baking dish, add a splash or two of water, and cover with foil. Then bake for 15-20 minutes, or until it's very soft. I've found that roasting the squash without the foil and water causes undesirably crispy edges (yummy with dinner, not in pie) and a dry texture that doesn't yield a spectacular custard consistency.
When the pie crust is thoroughly chilled, cover it with foil and a thin layer of dried lentils or beans (or pie weights), and put it straight in the 375-degree oven. Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until it's a nice light golden color. Remove the foil (although I like to leave a ring of foil around the crust edges to prevent over browning) and bake for another 5-6 minutes, until nicely golden.
Meanwhile, puree the squash in a food processor until super smooth (it's fine to use hot squash, but beware of the hot-things-expand-in-a-blender rule). Add the brown sugar, ginger, and spices and puree again until blended. Transfer to a medium pot over medium heat on the stove. Heat until it sputters a little, stirring carefully so it doesn't burn or stick. Then add the milk and cream in a slow, steady stream, stirring all along (I find a wooden spoon works well) so that everything incorporates smoothly. Continue to stir occasionally and heat until the squash-milk mixture simmers gently.
Now crack the four eggs into the food processor bowl (no need to clean it out first). Pulse a few times until blended. Then pour the hot squash-milk mixture into the food processor. Blend for about 30 seconds until smooth and silky.
Right about now, your hot pie crust should be steaming on your stovetop. Increase the oven temp to 400, pour the hot custard into the hot pie crust, and send it off to bake for 20-25 minutes.
All the "hot" terms here are key. Hot, prebaked pie crust = no soggy mixing with custard. Hot custard = a quick set, so no soggy mixing with crust.
When the custard jiggles just a bit when you gently move the pie, it's done. Let it cool to room temperature, and chill it if you want, but I bet you won't want to wait that long.
No comments:
Post a Comment