Equal Parts

I like to think about the decoration committee at my college dining hall, which I imagine was a subset of the staff of mostly older women who seemed to get a real kick out of spending their days with 18-22 year-old students. They went all-out for us with holiday décor, from hanging hearts in all shades of pink and red, to Christmas trees at every doorway, piñatas around Cinco de Mayo, and enough pumpkins in fall to fill a small roadside farm stand. It seemed to bring them so much joy to see our reactions to their creativity.

One November afternoon my friends and I claimed a table, gathered our lunch, and caught up on our days as some read the student paper and others finished homework. It was a completely unremarkable lunch until one of my roommates said she wanted to bake a pumpkin pie.

Really? How?

Our dining hall was spectacular — in both décor and the variety of food offerings — because our dorm rooms most certainly were not. At this point we were three to a room with just enough space for a lofted bed each, a metal futon, and a sink in the corner. The kitchen was in the basement next to the coin laundry and shared by the entire dorm. It had a stove and refrigerator that appeared to have last been used in 1976.

The grocery offerings at the on-campus store included a wall of microwaveable meals opposite a wall of bulk candy bins. In the center were band-aids and toothpaste and other basic toiletries. Acquiring flour, butter, and vanilla extract would require a walk to the student parking lot at the far edge of campus and the coordination of the schedules of four friends — equal to the number of extra seats in my car — who were eager to get off campus to stock up on their preferred brand of shampoo.

Bake a pie? It didn’t seem worth the effort.

Well, for starters, we could take one of those pumpkins, she said, gesturing towards the seasonal display of pumpkins on bales of hay alongside a cornucopia and a scarecrow.

Hmm. Well that sounded more like an adventure than a chore, and soon our attention was diverted completely from schoolwork and campus news to planning the great pumpkin escape of 2003. Emily, who had the idea, would carry the pumpkin. We would all leave the dining hall as a group, surrounding her as best we could. We would exit the center door, which was rarely used, and then hightail it to our dorm just across the sidewalk. We needed to be quick and efficient in our movement, and — most importantly — act natural, be cool. This was stealing after all.

Could everybody meet Thursday after class for a trip to the grocery store?

Who wants to reserve the kitchen space?

What do we need to buy? Has anybody actually done this before?

Later that week the prep work was complete and we met in the basement to commence the operating mission. But first, after scooping out the seeds, a few of us had to try the pumpkin on our heads, á la Joey Tribbiani wearing a raw turkey in the Friends Thanksgiving special. Then we roasted and somehow puréed it (I think possibly with the dorm’s blender), added milk, eggs, and pumpkin pie spice, and poured the mixture into our store-bought pie crust. While it baked, it was nice to sit around a table with friends and bask in the aroma of something homemade. I’m calling it The First Friendsgiving.

In the end the pie was not as we remembered it from our moms’ tables back home. The color was more yellow than orange, and the texture a bit stringy. We each had a few bites and laughed about it. But it sure was memorable!

These days pie is one of my favorite things to bake. I love sinking my hands into butter and flour. I love the urgency to keep the dough cold. I love writing a schedule and planning rest periods that will ensure crust success. I love the instinctual nature of pie, that it is the type of thing you have to do often to do well. And I love the infinite possibility of filling. The entire process is just plain fun!

Last night I finished a crumble-topped apple pie, as requested by my parents for Thanksgiving. Taking inspiration from Erin Jeanne McDowell’s incredible new The Book on Pie, I used her flaky all butter crust in combination with her pre-cooked apple filling and all purpose streusel.

I’m sad to part with it, but the consolation is the second apple pie I’m baking this year, just for me and Jeff. Over the weekend I made a version of the butter-gouda pie dough from Lisa Ludwinski of Sister Pie, inspired by her Apple Sage Gouda Pie, which I made for Thanksgiving last year and absolutely loved. I’ve always wanted to try the classic combo of cheddar with apple pie, so perhaps I am trying to fix what is not broken, but I swapped cheddar for the gouda this year.

The pie is in line to be baked later today, just as soon as I finish the homemade Chex mix. It’s not Thanksgiving (or Christmas) in my house without this all-day appetizer. My mom made it every year — the classic recipe from the back of the box — and the smell and taste is pure nostalgia. It’s also pure deliciousness. Toasted snack mix soaked in butter, Worcestershire sauce, and seasoned salt — what a treat!

CLASSIC CHEX MIX

You’ll need:
3 cups rice Chex cereal
3 cups corn Chex cereal
3 cups wheat Chex cereal
1 cup mixed nuts (I like mostly cashews with a little bit of pecans)
1 cup pretzel twists
1 cup bagel chips, broken into 1-inch size pieces
6 tbsp butter, melted
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1-1/2 tsp seasoned salt (preferably Lawry’s)
3/4 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp onion powder

Heat oven to 250. In a large bowl mix together the cereals, nuts, pretzels, and bagel chips. In a medium bowl whisk together the butter, Worcestershire sauce, seasoned salt, garlic powder, and onion powder. Pour the butter mixture over the cereal mixture and stir until evenly coated. Pour onto 2 ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes.