Linda B. clued me in to a new pumpkin pie recipe recently. Or, rather, an old recipe, courtesy of “Tasting History with Max Miller” on YouTube. Miller is an engaging young man who turned his passion for historical food and beverages into a pair of YouTube channels.
The recipe, circa 1670, featured sliced apples, currants, raisins, butter, savory herbs and dry sack, but no custard or even milk. This was to be a layered dish, not a smooth and creamy one.
Back in the day, “pumpions” were a big reason that the colonists survived. Not only is it packed with vitamins and minerals, it survived less-than-ideal growing conditions and stored well over the winter. As the old folks used to sing,
We have pumpion at morning and pumpion at noon,
If it were not for pumpion, we should be undoon.
Since we did manage to nurse two pumpkins through a weird summer, and since DF is always up for a culinary challenge, we decided to give this a try. Naturally we put our own spin on the recipe, including the peculiarly Alaska one of substituting rhubarb juice for the dry sack. (I can’t abide alcohol.)
We had no currants, because I neglected to forage for them this year, but we did have raisins. (Fun fact: They were part of a Buy Nothing Facebook food package.) Miller used the savory herbs rosemary, thyme and parsley. But I wanted to hew closer to modern flavors, so I went with cinnamon, cloves and ginger. She who makes the pastry makes the rules.
Our pumpkin wasn’t the Sugar Pie variety that Miller used, but rather a Howland. (Here’s how Alaskans choose pumpkin varieties: Will it grow to maturity in the Last Frontier? I’ll take it!) But the smaller of the two was just the right size to make one pie.
The longest chore, which DF took on, was peeling and thinly slicing the pumpkin. Much later we remembered that lightly baking or even nuking the cut-up gourd would have made it easier to peel. Whoops.
More on how we did it
The second-longest chore, which DF also did, was dipping the pumpkin slices into beaten egg and frying them until tender. Not until they were super-tender, which Miller seems to have done: His slices appeared soft and crumbling, which meant for a more uniform appearance. (This is important later.)
Meanwhile, I was rolling out piecrust made the old-fashioned way: cold flour, salt, ice water and lard. The dough turned out like silky fabric that was very forgiving, as opposed to the potentially tear-able crusts I get when using shortening. Both are good, but lard crusts are noticeably flakier. If I couldn’t have a Sugar Pie pumpkin – which didn’t exist back in 1670 anyway – at least I had an old-school crust in which to envelop it.
Was all this work worth it? Boy, was it. Once I got over the pie’s appearance, that is. It looked positively eel-y.
Seriously: Look at the illustration. Do not those curling slices look like snakefish? Fortunately, the aromas that arose from the dish helped me ignore its appearance.
I par-baked the crust, then layered on apple slices. We’d bought a couple of Granny Smith apples, per Miller’s instructions. Afterward we realized we could have used our own Norlands, which we’d sliced and frozen for future pies.
Next I mixed those cooked pumpkin slices and raisins with two tablespoons of cut-up butter. Miller just tossed his in in one lump but I wanted a little butter in every bite. This mixture was drizzled with rhubarb juice and then tossed with a little sugar and the spices before being placed atop the apples. Miller mixed the herbs in with the egg, but I wanted my sugar-spice mix to stick to the pumpkin slices.
Tasting history, Alaska style
As noted, Miller’s pumpkin was cooked soft enough to be smooth-able. The top of his pie looks much more uniform than ours. No eels on him!
But again: Once the ingredients started dancing together, the delicious aroma made up for the less-than-lovely appearance. In other words, our pompion pie had a great personality.
About those flavors: The pumpkin and apple were a fascinating blend, and the raisins added a surprising sweetness. Normally I like raisins only in oatmeal cookies but man, were they good mixed with the other two fruits. Totally would upvote. Now I’m wondering what adding foraged-and-frozen currants might have done.
The rhubarb juice we used had been drained from compote I’d made with our own rhubarb. Every year I can the stuff for use in smoothies and with my homemade yogurt. But first I drain it, in order to get a thicker product; DF rescued and bottled the juice, storing it in the basement. It made a pretty good substitute for alcohol: We sorta-kinda tasted the rhubarb, but not really.
The pompion pie was delicious cold the next day, and even better when reheated in a black iron skillet in the oven. The crust is flaky and meltingly tender, and the filling a changing mix of flavors as you chew: Is that pumpkin or apple? Raisins or rhubarb? Cinnamon or ginger?
Next time I’ll use a touch more of those spices, and brown sugar instead of white. It’s possible that I’ll stir a squirt of molasses into the rhubarb juice, too.
Yes, there will be a next time: A dish this toothsome is worth the labor. And that’s saying something, since my favorite pie of all time is pumpkin pie as a custard, not as a mess of eels.
I do encourage you to check out “Tasting History,” as it’s a lot of fun. DF and I will likely revisit the channel ourselves, for future harvests or maybe for special occasions. However, I draw the line at sewing together a suckling pig and capon. Then again, even Miller said he’d never do that again.
Readers: Did you ever try a historic recipe or antique cooking method? How did it turn out?
Yes. My mother-in-law was from Poland. They had a long history consisting of lack of food and being occupied. Thus said, she was amazing and could make food out of what we in America throw out. Meat was a specialty, only given out at night. No bacon, lunchmeat, stuff like that, but pork chops and pork roasts were her specialty. But soups reigned supreme.
She made soup out of the brine of pickles that most of us would dispose. She always kept one pickle for flavor, thickened the mixture with flour, added pepper and one other spice I cannot remember, and serve it with crusty bread and butter. Beet soup was yummy, made the same way except adding salt. Served over noodles in the bottom of the bowl, it was wonderful on a cold Wisconsin evening. She would simmer dry mixed fruit for hours and then serve that with real whipped cream for desserts. No pre-made packaged stuff for her. Everything–macaroni and cheese, real potatoes not fried but baked/boiled with real butter, and kapusta (heavenly, which was made by combining cabbage, sauerkraut, a bit of bbq sauce and brown sugar).
Luckily, there was a Polish bakery in town that hand-made pieroges and fish salads which were actually quite good. She used real cream and lots of real butter, but the portions were smaller than what we Americans are used to, so she did not have a weight problem. When she made a beef and vegetable dish, it consumed a good 1-3 hours chopping everything up and cooking the meat tender.
Now when I tried to emulate her food, it was good, but I admit I took shortcuts, so it was never as good as hers. My meat was not as tender and sometimes I used frozen instead of fresh (horrors!). Canned beets never quite are as good as fresh.
However, when she would visit, she happily took over my kitchen for at least 3 days and cooked. She left my freezer full. My daughter learned many of her secrets, but I…I washed dishes as I’m not that into cooking.
I tried that pickle soup recipe when you mentioned it before, and I have to say it was pretty good served over our home-grown potatoes.
The more inflation we see, the more those old-time skills are going to come in handy.
It is good, that soup!
Have you noticed that so many of the out of stock items in the stores are convenience foods and in particular frozen stuff? My mother-in-law, my mom, and my grandmother would forge ahead and belly up to their stoves and ovens. I don’t think any of them ever owned a convenience appliance like a crock pot. And, my grandmother always said that there were two rules about food: eat as closely to the way that God made it and everything in moderation. I’m 72 now, and I’ve gone pretty much back to that way of eating and I feel terrific.
We have a slow cooker but not an instant pot. In part that’s because we’re not in any particular hurry, but it’s also because we have relatively little counter space and would have to figure out where to store the darned thing.
Your grandmother was ahead of her time: “As closely to the way that God made it” is now known as “minimally processed.”
We have the cookbook Fat Rascals: Dining at Shakespeare’s Table (by John Tufts) and I love reading about the old recipes (and the related theatre stories of Shakespeare performances). I made one recipe and my youngest son, who is very into cooking made another — gluten free so I could eat it. Delicious, both of them. You’ve reminded me I want to pull it out again and try some more.
And yes, I saw the photo and was wondering if you actually ate it: glad it came out so good!
Your pie sounds really tasty. I wish we had wild currants to pick in the desert! I enjoy reading about historical recipes. I have a depression era cookbook somewhere in my Kindle that I read a couple of years ago. There were some good inexpensive recipes in there, but they were pretty carb heavy for me most of the time. The soup recipes I have found were great though. You and DF really have the frugal cooking and foraging down pat. You should write a cookbook together.
I have a recipe passed down from my great grandmother. It’s called “Apple Stack Cake”, made from a very plain recipe with stewed dried applies in between the layers. It’s not very sweet but after sitting a couple of days and eating with whipped cream it’s delicious!
DF and I have a lot of dried apples from our two trees. Care to share the recipe?
Seconding the “Frugal Alaska Cookbook” idea!!! Go for it!