Green Hubbard Pie

Well, I finally got around to making pie with a Green Hubbard. Unfortunately, I forgot to take any photos. The Green Hubbard may or may not have tasted better in pie than Pie Pumpkin or Delicata. It was good. At some level one just needs some orange shit with the right texture to sweeten, add eggs to, and bake into a custard pie filling. I did get a hint of something disagreeable in the Green Hubbard's flavor. I don't know what, exactly.

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.

 I outsourced the crust-mixing and crust-shaping to my lackies, who were quite willing because they were to receive pie in exchange for their labor.

 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.

Hubbard squash in my possession, I knew I had to make pie. This sweet Hubbard Pumpkin Pie contains minimalist ingredients, which allows you to experience the unique flavor and texture of this incredibly dense and silky squash variety. And the color from this squash is a brilliant golden amber with undertones of green and caramel. So pretty beforeand after you bake it.

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!

10 November 2011

A Series of Attempts at a Post on Pie-Squashes


Several Attempts to Write a Post Comparing Squashes for Pie

It would be more ideal to write this comparison of pie-squashes after having tried the allegedly perfect variety, Blue Hubbard, but I can't get my hands on one. The squashes thrown indiscriminately into bins outside of the supermarkets in town never include Blue Hubbard. What I have tried will have to do, then, because let's be honest: By the time I find a Blue Hubbard, I won't want to write a comparison anyway. (At this point Blue Hubbard's inaccessibility has me elevating it to some kind of edible angel of pie-baking.)

Thus far this season I've tried Buttercup, Delicata, Pie Pumpkin and Golden Acorn.


Pumpkin Pie Round 2: Pie Pumpkin vs Golden Acorn

Golden Acorn

3 cups cooked squash puree2/3 cup coconut milk3 eggs1/2 cup white sugar2/3 cup brown sugar

Pie Pumpkin

  • 2 cups cooked pumpkin puree
  • 1/2 cup coconut milk
  • 2 eggs
  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • 1/3 cup brown sugar
  • 2 tablespoons water

This week I tried making two other varieties of squash into pie, Pie Pumpkin and Golden Acorn. Why Golden Acorn? Because, sorting through the squash bins at Shop 'N' Kart, its label read "delicious baked, microwaved or in a pie," and none of the others (Green Kuri, Kabocha, Acorn, Carnival, Delicata, Butternut, Buttercup) had anything about pie.


Let us return to the method I used to favor--asking inappropriately speculative questions of food (although the bananas turned me down) and walking far out onto the limb of looking too hard for profundity. What makes good pumpkin pie? To some it is something that doesn't look like a pumpkin at all, but by virtue of the versatility of the term may be called pumpkin, and comes in a can. To others the orange tone of the fruit's skin is proof of the pie. Still others care only for the pie's taste--whatever tastes best. But what is best? Are we searching for an ideal here, and every good taste is orbiting it? Or is taste as blind as it feels? I could tell you, for instance,


I found a Green Hubbard (apparently it's "Green" not "Blue" as I once thought), and have taken it home with me. Not that I was looking anymore, but there it was. They are rumored (by one website and by my brother who once made a pie from one he was given as a kind of payment) to be the ideal squash for pie. Therefore my own easily persuaded personal mythology promises that a mountain of delicious pies will be scooped from the flesh of this giant. It is heavy, and not as warty and irregularly formed as I was led to believe they are. I estimate that this one squash could make four small pies.

It seems pointless to omit the Hubbard from my comparison of pie-squashes, so I will have to delay until I bake it into pies.

5 November 2011

Beware, it has Chipotle powder.

The Devourer of Small, UnsuspectingCreature'salmond flourgingersnap crust(with molasses)

TDSUC's pie

Left: Pie Pumpkin, Right: Golden Acorn

Pie Pumpkin Pie

Golden Acorn Pie

rolled oats, butter, brown sugar, cinnamon

Golden Acorn filling