My wife, before she started her classes, thought of starting a blog for awhile, thinking she had enough material about what holds us together. (Rest assured, I'd have been sure to link.) But shit, as it does, happened, and she never got the project going. Here's an entry that wouldabeen.
Some background: fifteen years ago or more, my mother sent me away with a box of recipes, the tried and true favorites of my youth. Mom's less a chemist than an empath however, and she wasn't in the habit of rigor when it came to transcribing her technique, more's the pity. When she attempted to put the coveted pumpkin pie variation to paper, it was a negligent wreck, instigating a solid decade of feelings of inadequacy. I mean, how fucking hard is it to balance ten ingredients? But I got Dad's genes too, and a cook + a machinist = a chemical engineer, and I'd be damned if a platter of custard was going to get the best of me. Ten years of tweaking Mom's "dumping" with, you know, measurements and stuff, gets you the recipe for the best pumpkin pie ever. I'm feeling indulgent tonight (which is to say drunk...again), so here you are:
- 1 small pumpkin, cut in half and baked for about an hour facedown on a cookie sheet
- 2 cups sugar
- 1 tsp salt
- 2 tsp grated fresh ginger (sub a teaspoon of powder if you must)
- 2 tsp ground cinnamon
- dash ground cloves
- 1-2 tsp lemon and orange zest
- some grated nutmeg (even though this recipe originally comes from Connecticut, you'll want a real one)
- 3 eggs
- 1-2 Tbsp Amaretto. (Add that much again to the pie. A surprising lot of our secret ingredients are booze.)
- light cream or half and half (roughly half a cup)
I'd be lying if I said I'll be thinking of any of you when I enjoy this tomorrow. Good night, everybody!