Pumpkin Pissing Pie…fuck

Hello readers. Not even fucking sorry that this post is late because I’ve had a rough week, but here it is.

As my few loyal followers will know, the last weekend of the month is designated for a foreign bake – and as it was halloween weekend, I thought I would grab the pumpkin by the balls and turn the motherfucker into a pie. The pumpkin is native to north ‘murica, and was an early export to France; from there it was introduced to Tudor England, and the flesh of the “pompion” was quickly accepted as pie filler. This is according to wikipedia so who knows how accurate that is.

I had to do quite a bit of research for recipes from professionals, and the only one I came across from a TV chef opened with the sentence ‘I’ve substituted the pumpkin for butternut squash’, so I closed that tab immediately. Corner cutting dickhead. So eventually I gave up and resigned to use a recipe from Betty Crocker, and the other recipe from InspiredTaste.net.

I’ve never made anything with pumpkin before, apart from a few shoddy attempts at carving them (talking of which, here is this years result)

Pumpkin juice and pumpkin pie both get a fair few mentions in the Harry Potter books, and I see American’s raving about it on pinterest. I looked at some pictures of the stuff and it did look nice, so how hard could it be?

I gathered my ingredients (hungover as fuck from the halloween part the night before) and jammed a knife into my pumpkin.

Betty Crocker

1,4The first thing I realised about this bake was that I forgot just how hard it was to slash the orange twat into pieces. The recipes called for canned pumpkin, but in the UK our shops don’t seem to sell it, so I got a recipe for pumpkin puree and used that. What’s that, you cry? I’m meant to be following the recipes exactly? Well, fuck you. I’m following the recipes to the best I can, the same way any average baker would. This blog is about the reality of baking, not the fluffed up instagram photos you see.

So, I ripped this pumpkin apart and dropped 1.6the chunks (peel still intact) into boiling water and let them stew for 20 mins. Once they were mushy, I took them out, rinsed them, and peeled the meat from skin. I mashed the fuckers up with a fork and left them to the side to cool.

In the meantime, I made the pastry. This was entitled ‘pat-in-the-pan’ pastry, and all I had to do was mix flour, water, and oil together and press the dough into my pie tin. Fucking simple, fucking easy. 10/10 would use again. Probably wont taste as good but whatever, I’m just happy to have a pie crust that hasn’t fallen apart yet.

1,2

I put the tin into the fridge to chill because apparently that’s what you do, and got on with making the filling. I fucked up the eggs, sugar, evaporated milk, spices, and pumpkin mash with my whisks and was left with a greyish looking gloop that smelt mildly of cinnamon. It was reminiscent of what Donald Trump’s skin might look like without the tan. The pumpkin was obviously shredded, but the pulp sunk to the bottom of the bowl in a congealed mess. I persevered nevertheless, and poured the shit into my pie tin. Into the Fucking Incinerator™ it went, on a lower temperature than required, and set the timer for 10mins (5mins earlier than the recipe calls for). Once the 10mins were up, I lowered the FI’s temperature and started to clean up the mess I had created. My pie1.3 filling had splashed absolutely everywhere during the whisking process, completely splattering me and my surroundings. This pie needed FORTY-FIVE-FUCKING-MINUTES to bake, so after I finished cleaning up I went to the shops to get myself a lucozade sport and a steak baguette to cure the hangover, which was only being 1,5made worse by the effort of whisking.

The timer rang and I went to open the door. I predicted a 10/10 on the smoke scale as it had been in there for so long, but I was pleasantly surprised at being greeted only to a 9/10. I attempted to grab this shitting pie, trying to clear a way through the fucking fog, and acquired a nice burn in doing so (don’t tell me I don’t work for this blog). I slammed the prick 1.7onto the counter. It didn’t look very orange at all. Nor did it smell all that wonderful. I slid it to the side and tried to gather enough morale to make the next one.

InspiredTaste

2.3InspiredTaste had the balls to call their homemade pumpkin pie ‘no fail’. Well, this recipe has not yet been attempted by the Swearing Chef, so there is still time.

This recipe asked for a ‘chilled pie crust’ but didn’t give the instructions for it, so I had to navigate to a recipe on their site. I mashed the dough together and pressed it into my well-greased pie tin, which went better than my shortcrust pastry normally does. A few cracks here and there but nothing catastrophic. I 2.1threw the fucker into the fridge to continue chilling, and started on the filling. The instructions consisted of three fucking sentences, which I can get down with. Less words = less steps = more time to drink wine. So, I whisked the eggs and sugar. Added spices, pumpkin (that I had prepared in the same way as before) and cream. And stirred. Sweet. The filling looked exactly the same as Betty’s – grey and lumpy. Now, my Mum loved me enough to send me to school with a packed lunch, but I imagine this filling looks like ‘school dinner’, 2.2whatever the fuck that was. I poured the shit into the pie crust and threw it in the oven. I couldn’t be doing with putting the crust in the FI and then filling it, because I don’t suffer with Parkinson’s and I can get a liquid filled pie in an oven without fucking it up. I preheated the oven yada yada early timer yada yada fucking incinerator etc etc. (can you tell how disillusioned I am with writing this cunting post?)

2.4

45mins later, with a final push and a scream, a grey and slimy looking thing was born. It didn’t look appealing, but it did smell nice at least. I set it aside to cool.

Whilst that was happening, I whipped up a basic bitch cream to service with the pie, just double cream, sugar, and a tbsp of skimmed milk powder to stabilise it.

The Comparison

2.7
Left: InspiredTaste, Right: Betty Crocker

There’s no easy to way to say this….well, there is: BOTH OF THESE PIES WERE FUCKING SHIT. Neither of them looked like pumpkin pie, neither of them tasted like pumpkin fucking pie. These fuckers tasted mashed potato that had grown a crust and been sprinkled with cinnamon. I mean they weren’t absolutely foul, and Lee is working his way through both of the pies on his own at an impressive rate for what he’s consuming- but I couldn’t face the shame of bringing one into work like I normally do.

I feel I should let you know, however, that the pictures make them both look a lot more burnt than they actually were – there was certainly some singed edges but the tops weren’t half as dark as they appear to be. If anyone wants to donate a digital camera to my blog then let me know, my phone just isn’t cutting it.

Lee couldn’t guess which pie was which because both of them were so, so similar and so, so average. I don’t blame him. These pies remind me of Lindsay Lohan – they should be orange, fluffy, and a family favourite. Instead they’re washed out, a menace to society, and need to be left in a corner to fade away into obscurity.

Perhaps these pies were so shite because I didn’t use canned pumpkin, but I honestly don’t for one second believe that it would have made much of a difference.

The Ratings

Betty Crocker

  • Difficulty: 4/10 – hardest part was preparing the pumpkin
  • Presentation: 6/10 – with the cream on top, it was a passable pie
  • Taste: -22348924593942-034910 – no comment

InspiredTaste

  • Difficulty: 4/10 – same again
  • Presentation: 6/10 – same again
  • Taste: -49859829230493043349 – you get the idea.

The Final Word

0122-lindsay-lohan-3
my reaction at the fucking pies

3 thoughts on “Pumpkin Pissing Pie…fuck”

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