Carl Sagan says if you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ssV79Qi7mM

At my family’s house, (or rather, our clan of houses all clustered together) that was pretty much true. I learned pie from my Great-Grandma, from apples we picked from her trees. As a little kid looking up at the generations above me, it did seem like the genesis of each apple was infinite, and the steps to bring them together were alchemical and ancient. The recipes were an oral tradition, a creation myth with room for individual interpretation but centered around some core beliefs.

These simple rules are not flexible but allow for infinite variation. So, to make a pumpkin pie from scratch, first invent the universe. Plant, tend, fertilize, water and harvest your pumpkin. Then bake until semi soft, slice in half, and bake some more cut side down until very soft.

This particular pumpkin is a Minnesota Sweet that did very well despite our drought causing me to decide to stop watering my variety trial patch halfway through summer.

While the baking is going down, make your crust.

Add your dry ingredients to a large mixing bowl. For me, this was about two cups (I have never measured, nor seen a family member measure) of Doug’s flour, grated Bay nuts for spice, and a pinch of salt. I used evaporated salt from a rice cooker because its texture is much finer than the larger sea salt we’ve gathered or made in bigger pots. For a non-local version, you can add sugar and cinnamon and nutmeg to your crust.

Grated Bay nuts! These little guys are like a combination of chocolate and nutmeg. They are my favorite spice and they are free for the taking every fall- check your local bay trees.

This is Clover Stornetta’s unsalted butter, which is processed in Sonoma County from cows raised in Mendocino and Sonoma. My folks live right next to Stornetta’s dairy, and I grew up riding bikes out on their cow paths, so while I’m visiting my folks this butter is Eat Mendocino legal.

The important thing about adding your fat, is it should be COLD. As firm as possible. Over working or warm fat makes pie dough super tough, which is extra challenging with our local, heirloom, real flour- it’s burlier and more prone to getting tough. Butter and lard work great, Crisco is the devil. Chop it into the flour with a pastry cutter if you have one, they rock- or a fork, but go for the bare minimum it takes for it to hold together.

This was my Great-Grandma’s trick- ice water. Apparently it’s a lot of other Grandma’s trick, too, and it really works. Use a spoon or fork to gently incorporate the smallest possible amount of water. Don’t overwork! Stop when dough holds together.

This is about the point when you can make a ball.

Ball of dough! On floured cutting board.

Make sure you flour your surfaces and pin (or wine bottle, whichever) more than you think you need to. Don’t stress about butter chunks in your crust. Ideally they’re small, maybe they’re not. It’s cool.

Okay, big moment. Transferring the crust from board to pie dish. To do this, sprinkle generous dustings of flour onto half of the crust.

Fold like a big pie quesadilla.

And then unfold!

Time for little decorative pinches. Or just cram the edges down.

Poke some holes in the bottom of the crust, using a fork.

Pretty spiral patterns are bonus points, mine never come out that way.
Pre-bake your crust for 10-15 minutes. Some people cover with foil or part of the bake time, or weigh the crust with dry beans. I never have, and it’s been fine.

Time to wrangle pumpkin.

Slice off the skin, or scoop out the flesh if you’re using a thick skinned squash.

Cut up your squash and add it to a heavy stock pot.

I added tons of honey, grated bay nuts, and lemon zest to the mixture.

Once it cooked down a bit on very low heat I added a cup of heavy cream and three beaten eggs and blended it with an immersion blender.

Pre-baked crust!

Fill with the squash goop! Then bake at 375 until the center is barely set and a knife comes out clean. About 40 minutes.

In my family, the tradition is to make tiny tarts out of whatever dough is left over. When my cousins next door were little they would sneak over when my mom was making pie and make a big show of stealing the tarts, and my mom would recite the nursery rhyme and chase them around. The Knave of Hearts is now an official teenager with the beginnings of a mustache, but it’s still a fun thing to do with excess dough. You can also freeze it, it works just fine later.

Snack sized pumpkin bites.

Pie love .

This is my last pie in this house, and it feels really good. For Christmas, my mom gave me my Great-Grandma’s serving bowl, to take with me to our new home. I’m also going to pull a farmer trick and cut scions from the apple trees to graft to new rootstock, planting the fruit of my family in new soils, where they will bear for generations to come.

Loves,

Gowan

This was a really sweet and lovely year. It’s going to be the last year having Thanksgiving in my family home, by the ocean in Gualala. My mom bought the house in the late 70’s, and it’s the only family home we’ve ever had. My Aunt is our next door neighbor, and my Grandma is staying with her, so it’s a lot like my childhood, except my Gramps has passed away and my cousin and I can drink a glass of wine if we want.

I’m totally re-designing the market garden at Noyo Food Forest, with the help of an amazing group of young people- ten Americorp NCCC volunteers. I love Americorp, some of my favorite people have come into my life through that organization. Americorp team members are some of the most positive, hard working, scrappy, fun people I’ve ever gotten to work with, and I feel very lucky.

This team helped to clear out all the final, end-of-season produce from the garden so we can re-do the beds and irrigation.

They also processed the turkeys I raised this year- the first experience for all of them. Its was a really profound and sometimes difficult experience, but the birds were raised with love and care and died quickly and with respect, and that’s as much as anyone can do. The team pitched in and helped my amazing mother, veteran of many many big family dinners, prepare a local feast for 20 people. My family and the Americorp team crammed into the old house, and I felt so thankful for everyone, and the animals and plants that feed us, and the people who raise and grow them, and that I’m alive after all these months in their collective care.

I’m so thankful. After dinner we all piled onto the floor of the living room with a fire in the big cast iron wood stove, and watched Women on the Land, our dear friend’s Carmen and Laurie’s film about the history of women farmers in Mendocino. I feel so thankful to get to be here, and get to be part of the legacy of this place, and to have the elders that are here to go back to for advice and inspiration and perspective. I feel fed by this place in so many ways, physically and practically, and emotionally and spiritually. I give thanks for the food, the land that sustains it, the people that tend it, and the learning process we all take part in collectively, through the generations, to be stewards and students of this place.

Loves,

Gowan

Sarah and I are now entering out 12th month of our local eating adventure.

This morning as I sipped mint and nettle tea and ate left over mashed potatoes my mom grilled crispy under the broiler, I thought about a questions my mom, my dad, my grandma, and pretty much everyone else has asked me recently: “what’s going to be the first thing you eat, January 1st?” People ask that a lot, all year it was “what do you miss?” and now that we’re in the home stretch, it’s “what are you most excited about?”

I have to say, I can’t think of anything I want. I’m starting to go over it in my head- what does New Year’s Day look like? I honestly have no idea.

I was a super hardcore coffee addict. It still smells good to me, but I haven’t had the slightest inclination to actually drink it in months. I can’t think of anything else. I sorta want to say something really epic and exotic- like kumquats or haggis or fish curry- but none of that sounds like food to me at this point, and as much as I remember loving Thai and Indian and Vietnamese food, I’ve had a fairly spice free existence for a year and fear the consequences of reacquainting myself with it.

I’m not sure what, if anything, will change 30 days from now, for me. Sarah might have a totally different feeling about Jan 1, and I’m sure we’ll both have a chance to talk about it a lot in the next month. I definitely feel a sense of appreciation for everyone who’s followed our journey this far and I’m so grateful we started on this path- I had no idea it was going to be so humbling and empowering, so much work and so abundant, so isolating and so connecting.

It’s been, in other words, just as diverse and beautiful, remote and embracing, as this place we live.

Loves,

Gowan