It seemed fitting that on the same day as Survive Norfolk I received a squash in my CSA bag that was, frankly, the pallor of death.

The skin of the Hubbard squash is blue-gray, a sick color that calls to mind the sky before a big storm, or perhaps the face of a zombie. The squash is heavy with skin that is somehow smooth and bumpy at the same time, with a stem sticking out the top, a trait it shares with its cousin the pumpkin.

Who knew that inside that squash, more pumpkin-like traits awaited? The flesh of a Hubbard squash is bright orange, spongy, and sweet.

Hubbard Squash

My mother arrived on Friday as well, and after I took her down the street into the heart of Ghent to watch zombie tag, I set to work on picking the perfect Hubbard squash recipe to cook while she was here.

Let me explain part of my cooking pathology: I love home-cooked, simple foods, but I’m also an overachiever. If it’s complicated and requires a lot of steps, I want to do it. Special equipment? Sign me up. Add to the equation my desire to impress my mother with my culinary prowess, and I become Hell on Wheels. So while I found many (fantastic) recipes online and in cookbooks for sweet roasted Hubbard squash, I came around to the inevitable conclusion of my life: the answer is always pie.

Hubbard squash pie, friends. Imagine, if you will, being my mother, seeing this squash that is roughly the size of a human head and the color of the undead, and then imagine trying to be a good sport and say nice things about the pie your daughter intends to make out of this monster of a winter squash. She tried her best, but I eventually pulled it out of her: she was a skeptic, not at all convinced that this pie would taste good. Squash? In a pie? Eww.

I’m happy to say that I proved my skeptic wrong. Hubbard squash pie is very closely related to pumpkin pie, prepared according to the same recipe, and tastes much the same, but with an earthier note to it. One of my roommates said that if there could be free-range pumpkin pie, it would taste like Hubbard squash pie. I stood in the kitchen, cutting slices, waiting for my mother’s initial reaction, and when I heard the words I had most hoped for—“Oh Dana, it’s wonderful!”—the overachieving amateur chef inside me high-fived the nervous, eager-to-please daughter in me.

This pie is especially surprising if you have house-guests who can see the raw squash before you start hacking into it. The pie can be served chilled, room-temperature, or a little warm. I served mine with fresh whipped cream (recipe below). For my pie recipe, I used (of course) The Joy of Cooking.

Before I share the recipe, I want to say a word about safety. You know how pumpkins sit steadily on a relatively flat bottom while you hack into their tops? No such luck with the Hubbard squash. You must turn it on its side and cut into it from the side. The skin is not forgiving, and it’s very important that you be careful in cutting it. A friend of mine managed to take a chunk out of his finger while peeling his Hubbard squash. Use caution.

I would be remiss if I also didn’t talk a bit about the custard pie discussion in The Joy. I enjoy using a cookbook that’s been around as long as The Joy has because the writer and subsequent editors have learned a thing of two since its first edition. According to the book, pumpkin pie and Hubbard squash pie both function the same as a custard pie. Custard pies need to be baked at a relatively low temperature to keep the filling from curdling; likewise, the crust tends to become soggy unless the pie is baked at a high temperature. This makes for a bit of a pie snafu. The editors suggested in the 1975 edition that you bake the pie shell and the custard separately, and then work some magic to get the custard into the pie without it breaking in the process. Thankfully, they’ve revised this idea. The editors suggest that the filling should be at room temperature, and the crust should be warm. I’ve incorporated this advice into the recipe.

Hubbard Squash Pie

Five or six pounds of squash will make four cups of squash puree, enough for two pies. The recipe below is for a single pie, so double quantities if you want to make two pies.

Preheat the oven to 325ºF.

Split the squash into quarters with a cleaver or heavy knife. Cut out the stem, scrape out the stringy pulp, and hack the squash into 4-inch pieces. Place the squash, rind side down, in an oiled roasting pan, cover tightly with aluminum foil, and bake until very soft, about an hour and a half.

Scrape the flesh free of the rind and puree it in a food processor. If the puree seems loose and wet, pour it into a colander lined with cheesecloth, bring the ends of the cheesecloth up over it, and cover it with a heavy bowl. Let the puree drain for 30-60 minutes, or until it reaches the same consistency as the canned kind.

(I’ll confess, I was nervous about having to use cheesecloth. I did some soul-searching and finally gave in to the scolding from both mother and roommate about the necessity of the cheesecloth. In the end, however, my squash came out too dry, and I ended up adding a little water to get it to puree. Use either method depending on the moisture level of your squash.)

Cut and ready to bake in the oven.

Next, prepare your pie crust. I’ll admit a cardinal sin of pie preparation: I used a store-bought crust. However, there are many good, basic pie crust recipes out there. I’ve included one from The Joy below, but many websites and cookbooks have easy recipes.

Pat-in-the-Pan Crust

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

½ tsp salt

8 tablespoons (1 stick) of unsalted butter, softened, cut into eight pieces

2-3 tablespoons of heavy cream

1 large egg yolk

Pinch of salt

Whisk together the flour and salt. Add the butter and mash with the back of a fork until it resembles coarse crumbs. (You can also use a food processor.) Drizzle the heavy cream over the top. Stir until the crumbs look damp and hold together when pinched. Transfer the mixture to the pie pan. Pat down (hence, pat in the pan) the crust, working it up the sides into a fluted or crimped lip on the rim of the pan. Prick the bottom and sides with a fork. Bake at 400ºF for 18-22 minutes or until golden brown.

Whisk together the egg yolk and pinch of salt, then brush the mixture on the inside of the crust. Return to oven 1-2 minutes.

Pie Filling

2-3 large eggs (3 eggs for soft, custardy filling, 2 for a firmer pie with a pronounced pumpkin flavor—I used 3)

2 cups freshly cooked squash puree

1 ½ cups light cream or evaporated milk

½ cup sugar

1/3 cup firmly packed light or dark brown sugar

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp ground ginger

½ tsp freshly grated or ground nutmeg

¼ tsp ground cloves or allspice

½ tsp salt

Position a rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 375ºF.

Finished pie.

Whisk the eggs thoroughly in a large bowl. Whisk in the rest of the ingredients one at a time, making sure that after each addition, you reach a smooth, well-combined mixture. This is especially important when adding the squash, which I had to do gradually, whisking well to combine after each addition.

If you’re a cheater like me and you’re using a store-bought crust, warm it in the oven for about ten minutes. No need to brush it with egg yolk unless you want to. If you’re making your crust from scratch, I commend you; warm it in the oven before pouring the filling into the crust.

Pour the filling into the crust, making sure not to fill it too much—it becomes easy to slosh the filling over the side when putting it in the oven (like I did).

Bake until the center of the filling seems set but quivery, like gelatin, when the pan is nudged, 35 to 45 minutes. Let it cook completely on a rack, and then refrigerate. Serve with whipped cream.

Fresh Whipped Cream

If you want to astound guests, whip up a batch of fresh whipped cream. It’s so easy, but it’s completely impressive.

For four people, I used about half a cup of whipping cream, two teaspoons sugar, and a dash of vanilla. Pour all three ingredients into a bowl (stainless steel and chilled, if you have it). Whip at high speed 5-7 minutes or until soft peaks form. Serve the pie with a dollop of whipped cream.

Eat well, CSAcationers, and take care.