Ron and I collaborated on the worst pumpkin pie ever made.
I baked the pumpkin this morning. It ended up swimming in an inch of water, and I made a mess trying to drain it: colander, Foley mill, a couple of bowls.
Finally got the pumpkin, enough for two pies even with all the manhandling, to a workable state. I left Ron with the project of mixing and seasoning the filling while I went thrifting for a plant stand (no luck but I fetched his new overalls from the tailor and got a splendid apres shower robe for $2.50).
Ron used a 1/2 Tbl. for a full Tbl. measure and half as many eggs as called for in the recipe.
We had no cinnamon or ground cloves. I tried grinding whole cloves and cinnamon sticks in a coffee bean mill.
This might have worked except that we foolishly dumped in the full amounts called for in the recipe rather than gradually adding the spices and sampling.
The result was a toxic, almost inedible blend of molasses, white sugar, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg with the “kick” of a mild but nevertheless insistent chili.
The pie is tolerable with lots of whipped cream, about a 1:1 ratio. We ate so much cinnamon that we should have immunity for the rest of the season.
There are two more pumpkins in the cellar. We know what to do.