That's right, I went out and slaughtered my own pumpkin with my own two hands.
And then, because I'm extra homemade, I mashed up the pumpkin with a potato masher instead of pureeing it with an electric kitchen appliance.
It's not that I'm actually that homemade or that our power was out. We just don't have a blender or a food processor.
Cody had already made a sweet potato pie this way and it turned out fine.
We are but peaceful, pie-loving folk using plain ingredients and simple tools in our fat, fat way of life.
I had some of the pie for breakfast.
In addition to being great because pie for breakfast is always great, the pie actually tasted good.
I'm feeling pretty awesome about myself right now.
It's obviously not as smooth as from-a-can pumpkin pie, but Laine told me to call the 'grit' "texture" instead, because that sounds rustic. Then she called it "rustic pumpkin pie."
Yup, rustic pumpkin pie.
I'm feeling so insufferably proud of myself that I want to put that rustic pumpkin pie out on my dining room table next to a basket of organic, locally grown apples that I bought from the farmer's market.
No really, I have a basket of those in the fridge.
But that would attract ants.
We have a slight ant problem.
It's mostly under control, but the damp weather doesn't exactly help.
I guess now would be a good time to admit that the crust was store-bought.
I should probably also admit that I don't really care where my pie--or its ingredients--come from as long as, you know, it's pie.
And I get to have it for breakfast, because I'm a champion.
And pie is the breakfast of champions.
I'm sure the Better Homes and Garden New Cookbook would back me up on this.
I hope you're staying dry.
I hope you have a great Halloween/fall-type celebration weekend.
I hope you have pie.