Blogger fails at captioning, so the captions will just be text below the photo. This lighting is shit, and the pie looks, if I do say so myself, unappetizing. It is, however, the finest squash pie I've ever made. Whether this is due to the variety of squash or some slight differences in ingredient proportions, I couldn't say. The texture was perfect. The next pair of pies I made from this same squash were much runnier, unfortunately, because coconut milk varies in thickness from can to can, apparently. Or maybe it doesn't really, and I just got a freakishly thick can the first time. Which is to say it does.
When uncertain of what pose to strike in a photo, go for the directional mouth-opening, indicating that you wish to eat the object your mouth is pointed at. Interestingly (the most pointless adjective ever), this is generally done to objects that you would not actually eat. The stagily gaping maws occupy a universe of never-realized fantasy (unless of course you're a cannibal). Similarly, a straight guy I know sometimes walks up behind his male friends and humps their bums.
Google also fails at putting pictures in the right fucking place. They call it "milk"--I'm not so sure about this can. The whole thing was thicker than cream. I keep telling myself that I use coconut milk for its fat content, but it really does add a somewhat jarring flavor. I've grown used to it, but honestly the only reason I keep doing it is because I'm afraid the pie will somehow not come out right if I use some other (non-dairy) liquid.
That's cinnamon, fresh nutmeg, allspice, cloves, and black pepper. I used to mix the whole pie in the food processor; these days I add a step by food processing the squash flesh, and then transferring it to a bowl in which I whisk the filling together. This enables me to measure the squash puree. Me taking steps toward consistency by actually measuring ingredients? o_0
They look beastly, don't they?
The Shadow knows what lurks inside tea kettles.
Would you just look at these… squash halves! Each half gave me two pies.
It has already been eviscerated, but I thought I would try to show you what it looked like when it was whole.
Never was the squash seen whole. You must imagine it.
What a pain it was to cut in half.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Still here? Hmm. Elbert Green Hubbard (June 19, 1856 – May 7, 1915) was an American writer, publisher, artist, and philosopher. Raised in Hudson, Illinois, he met early success as a traveling salesman with the Larkin soap company. Today Hubbard is mostly known as the founder of the Roycroft artisan community in East Aurora, New York, an influential exponent of the Arts and Crafts Movement. Among his many publications were the nine-volume work Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great and the short story A Message to Garcia. He and his second wife, Alice Moore Hubbard, died aboard the RMS Lusitania, which was sunk by a German submarine off the coast of Ireland on May 7, 1915.
I really don't know how long to bake these for--I just keep checking them until they appear firm, and then poke them with a fork. The fork doesn't have to come out cleanly for it to be done (like cake), but it has to stick less, and have a consistency that isn't runny.
115 days. Cucurbita maxima. Plant produces good yields of 15" long dark bronze-green skinned squash. It has a very sweet orange-yellow thick flesh. Good for making pies. Keeps well into spring. Suitable for home garden and market growers. A heirloom winter squash variety dating back to 1790. This squash was likely used by your great-grandmother and is a fall tradition still today in New England. Finely-textured, yellow-orange flesh that is medium sweet and medium dry with a very hard rind. It is also suited for soups and all of your holiday baking needs.
I meant to take more than one photo of these, but by the time I had remembered to take one, we had mostly eaten them. They're terribly addicting, as I suppose anything is that's salty and crunchy. The seeds of the Green Hubbard are especially fat, although in part that is due to the thickness of their germ.
Look, I cleaned the stove. Don't worry, in another week it will be covered in crisp, half-burned, oil-soaked bits of unidentifiable food.
I believe this is called a "smile," but it looks more like I'm just baring my teeth. Yup, it's true. black is the only real color. It's amazing how I have just about as much to go on regarding these photos as you do. I would like to tell you how it happened that my photo was taken, but I don't really remember. I do know _who_ took my photo, but because I'm determined to be a useless narrator, I won't tell you.
The hubbard squash is said to have a mysterious origin, possibly named after a Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard, who lived in the 1840s and gave seeds of the squash to friends, thus increasing its popularity. It is not known exactly where the hubbard was first grown, but most winter squash varieties are known to be New World foods, meaning they originated in the Americas. It can now be grown almost anywhere with enough sunlight, water, and warm weather; the seed is known to be quite resilient and grows best if planted during the spring to allowed to grow all summer.
More cinnamon.
My "Green Hubbard" is not the "True Green Hubbard" pictured here. It is not the original Hubbard squash that all other varieties of Hubbards were selected from. Nor is it imported from Australia in 1932, from seed secured from Arthur Yates and Co. of Sydney. If you are splashed by water make sure to splash back. If you fall deep into water you may fall through time as well.
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Galeux D'Eysines (a.k.a. Warted Sugar Marrow, Courge Brodee Galeuse, Giraumon Galeux d’Eysines) originated from the Bordeaux region of France. This heirloom was first listed by Vilmorin in 1883 under the name Warted Sugar Marrow. The salmon pink squash can weigh up to 15 pounds and are shaped like slightly flattened pumpkins. The most unique trait of this variety is the large beige warts that it develops as it ripens. The flesh can be used for soup or baked and the long vines are productive and early. Beautiful for fall decorations.
Many times the skin or rind will simply lift off with your fingers (see the photo at left) . I'll bet you didn't realize making your own pumpkin glop... err, "puree" was this easy!
Note: there are many varieties of pumpkin and some make better pies that other (due to sugar content, flavor, texture and water content. Drier, sweeter, fine-grained pies; the small (8" across) ones called "pie pumpkins" are best.
If your pumpkin puree has standing, free water, you may want to let it sit for 30 minutes and then pour off any free water. That will help prevent you pie from being too watery! Beyond, that, I have not found that the water makes a difference - I wouldn't be TOO concerned about it!